Riptide
by Anna Fugazzi
Summary: Who's the more foolish: the fool, or the fool who follows him?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes: **This fic was written for hdworldcup 2008, for the Tarot card prompt "The Fool." Thanks so much to Owensmom, Irishmommy, Calanthe and Twisted Miracle for extensive beta, Britpick, and, sometimes, entire passages ;)

**Warning:** this fic is probably the piece I've written that has received the most negative reviews _ever_. It even unwittingly spawned a wankfest that eventually made it all the way to fandomwank, w00t!

'Course, lots of other folks did like it (including me - though of course, I'm a bit biased ;)), but don't think you're weird if you don't like it, because hey! You're in good company :D :D

Also: Draco's wife was referred to as Ast**o**ria Greengrass by JRK in an interview , but then the family tree she drew seemed to show the name as Ast**e**ria. I chose Asteria because Astoria makes me think of a hotel, and then I think of Paris Hilton, and then it's all downhill from there.

**ooo000ooo**

Draco knocked back another drink, beginning to wish he hadn't picked this particular pub to stop in after work. Granted, he needed a place to wind down before going home to Asteria and her latest charity project, but he hadn't realised that this particular establishment had become a karaoke bar since his last visit, years ago. Karaoke. A particularly heinous Muggle custom that he really wished hadn't come into the wizarding world.

Although the karaoke itself wasn't nearly as bad as he'd thought it would be. The three people who had gone up to sing since Draco had arrived had been passable, though the second one's voice was a shade too soft and kept getting lost in the accompaniment. Not that Draco cared; all he wanted was a nice, relatively quiet place to have a drink or two, maybe think over his day and work out his agenda for tomorrow. Take a bit of time for himself between the demands of work and home.

He flipped through today's report from the Leprechaun Committee, skimming it disinterestedly.

"All right, next up," the witch was saying, and Draco paused his reading and looked up at the stage.

Harry Potter was climbing onto the stage. What the hell?

Draco watched him curiously. Hadn't seen him in... how long? Potter was head of the Aurors, but although he and Draco both worked at the Ministry they didn't tend to run into each other much. When was the last time?

Draco thought for a moment. Probably last September, dropping their kids off at King's Cross. Not June; Asteria had picked up Scorpius a few weeks ago, when school had finished.

Potter got up on stage and took the microphone, looking at it with a slightly puzzled air, and then the music began. Lyrics floated in the air in front of him, and he started to sing.

Draco sat up, stunned. Potter was singing. He was _singing_. And it was... utterly breathtaking.

Breathtakingly _bad._

Draco reminded himself to close his mouth as one by one the patrons of the pub hushed, all attention focusing on the man on the stage as he took them, note by excruciatingly wrongly-placed note, through _A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love_. A hideous oldie that Draco had never thought he could ever feel nostalgic about, but right now the thought of Celestina Warbeck crooning its insipid words was bringing tears to his eyes as Potter thoroughly and absolutely slaughtered the song past redemption.

Draco was going to have to Obliviate himself. It was that bad.

He shook himself impatiently. No it wasn't. Draco was just over-reacting because this was _Harry Potter_ up there making a complete and utter arse of himself. And Draco's feelings for him re-defined the word "ambivalence," so of course this kind of self-induced public humiliation pushed all of Draco's buttons, as his brain struggled to decide whether to be highly gleeful, or painfully sympathetic.

Right?

He looked around. Apparently not. From the half-open mouths around the pub, gaping in frozen horror, he was not alone in his opinion of Potter's talent. Or rather, his stunning lack thereof.

And... oh God. He was even singing the extra verse, the one that the radio hadn't normally played but was on Celestina's _Love's Charming Potion_ album. That dreadful album that Pansy's mother played every single time the Malfoys visited the Parkinsons, probably in hopes of putting Draco in the mood to ask for Pansy's hand in marriage.

And Potter was still singing. So badly that Draco was actually slipping into fond nostalgia for _Pansy_, for Merlin's sake, just to avoid thinking of what was happening onstage.

Draco ordered another Firewhisky, rather irate that he had to shout to get the bar man's attention, since the man was also gaping with morbid fascination at Potter's dreadful singing. This was a man who worked at a karaoke pub, who had surely seen more than his fair share of drunken, tone-deaf performances, and even he was stunned by this travesty. Draco downed his Firewhisky, hoping to dull his senses.

Finally. Thank God, finally, the anguish was over, and Potter was bowing, and the audience was evidently too traumatised to do anything other than clap mechanically in response to his bow. Or possibly in gratitude that he was finally done.

"All right, Al, now come on up here," Potter said, grinning down at a black-haired boy sitting open-mouthed at one of the front tables. The boy in question started, then shook his head in alarm. "Everybody, this is my son Al, and he's going to sing for you too. I've taught him everything I know about music," he said proudly, and an audible groan of dismay rose from the room. "And lucky for all of you, he's ignored me at every turn. Come on, Al!"

The boy was still looking horrified, as the other teenagers at his table clapped and cheered. Draco looked at him more closely - yes, he did look familiar. Al Potter, one of Scorpius' classmates.

"Yeah, Al, go on up!" shouted a young girl with fiery red hair.

"No!"

"You can't _not_ go, mate!" said a dark young boy. "Not after your dad set up you like that!" He and the girl stood and started trying to pull him up, as the others at their tables roared with laughter.

"Lily! No--" Al struggled to keep his seat. "Freddie, geroff--" he pushed back at the other boy, "I don't want to--"

"You _will_ get your arse up here!" shouted a redheaded boy, joining the other two gleefully dragging Al out of his chair. "Dad just _sang_, you berk. You cannot let that be the last impression people have of our family at this pub!"

Finally he was up on stage, and Potter gave him an affectionate clout on the back, leaning forward to say something into his ear. The boy chuckled and ran a hand nervously through his dark hair.

He took a deep breath, then spoke into the microphone. "All right, I suppose I have to do something to make up for that." The audience laughed. "Dad, please, next time, just threaten to take away my broom, all right?"

Potter laughed, sitting back comfortably with the kids at the front table and grabbing a beer.

Al took a deep breath, and started to sing. Something Draco didn't recognise, though it sounded vaguely familiar. Probably something Scorpius listened to when he was at home. And thank Merlin, Potter's son had a passable voice. Actually, a very nice voice, though hardly professional calibre. Of course, it was hard to tell. After the auditory torture of Potter's 'singing,' a screech-owl probably would've sounded musically pleasing. Draco glanced at Potter, sitting at the table, looking up at his son. Chuckling and nodding at something the redheaded boy said to him, glancing around the pub at the patrons now giving his son their rapt attention. His eyes stopped as he spotted Draco alone at the bar, then he gave Draco a grin and a silent toast with his bottle before turning back to the young girl with red hair as she talked excitedly into his ear.

**_ooo000ooo_**

**_The Daily Prophet, September 14th: The Fairytale Is Over?_**

_It's true. This paper has now confirmed the shocking rumours that have been circulating in the wizarding community for several weeks: Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Man Who Reorganised the Auror Office, close confidant of former Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Ginny Potter, née Weasley, formerly of the Holyhead Harpies and sports writer for this newspaper, have ended their marriage._

_"It's a shock, a complete shock," said close Weasley confidante Susan Bones. "We always thought those two were destined to be together forever."_

_"And the way it happened, too, it's just horrible," said Pansy Parkinson-Bletchley, a close friend of Potter. "She just walked out. After everything he did for her and her family, and for all of us, she just upped and left him. She's broken his heart. He'll never get over her."_

_Close sources are mum as to the reason behind the famous couple's split, but readers can rest assured that this reporter will get to the bottom of the story._

**ooo000ooo**

"Nah, c'mon, Hannah, jus' one more!"

Draco turned around, eyes widening at the sight. Good lord. Harry Potter, barely upright, shamelessly begging the proprietor of the Leaky Cauldron for one more drink.

"Harry, please," sighed Hannah Longbottom. "You've had more than enough."

"Have not. 'Sides, 'm getting a drink for my friends here, Tim an'... erm..."

"Catherine," said the dark witch standing next to Potter, with a highly amused smirk.

"Cathy, here. She's really smart, didyou know?" He gave Catherine a beaming smile. "Smart is sexy," he said earnestly, apparently catching the way her smile faltered slightly.

"Ah." Catherine rolled her eyes. "Of course. Sexy." Beside her, Tim sniggered.

"Hey, 's sloshed sexy?" Potter asked.

Catherine giggled. "Darling, if it were, you'd be a PlayWitch centrefold right now."

Draco couldn't help but agree as he took in Potter's slightly bloodshot eyes, stubbled cheeks, gently swaying posture.

How the mighty had fallen.

Potter laughed. "D'you know they asked me a couple of times? Take my kit off an' pose for that thing?"

Catherine giggled.

"No, 'm serious, 'n they pestered me til I told 'em I'd been horribly disfigured by Basilisk venom."

"You didn't!" said Tim, and Draco noted that he and the woman, though far more sober than Potter, had also very obviously been drinking as well.

"An' the only person I let see me was my darling 'n very understandin' wife. May've said somethin' about our kids bein' the product 'f some fancy spellwork too."

"Did that put 'em off?" asked Tim.

"Buggered if it didn'! They actually said some people had a kink fer that kind of thing!"

They laughed together, and Draco caught the witch's quick glance downwards.

Evidently, so did Potter. "Wanna know if it's true?" he asked, grinning.

"No!" She blushed a bit, then laughed. "All right, yes."

"Not gonna tell you," Potter said smugly. "'Nless you keep drinkin' with me an' Tim."

"Harry, come on, dear, you've had enough," said Hannah chidingly, glancing around the pub. "What would your children say?"

"They'd say, 'Dad, _please_ don't tell the story about PlayWitch, 's soo embarrassing!'"

The three drunks shared a laugh and Hannah shook her head but relented, pouring them another round. Draco saw her surreptitiously water Potter's down.

Funny though, thought Draco. Potter didn't look like the tortured soul he'd seemed on the front page of the _Prophet_, his heart broken by his heartless Harpy of a wife.

Probably hiding it under a flood of alcohol. One of Potter's most annoying traits at school had always been his complete inability to look properly hangdog when life was tearing him down. And he still had it. Thank God Draco had grown up enough since then to be able to witness it without bitter resentment.

"Now, d'you promise you'll show me after we've had our drinks?" Catherine asked.

Potter... there was no other word for it. He giggled. "Nope. Sorry."

"Then why should I drink with you?"

"'Cause it's fun!"

"Aren't you worried that the _Prophet_'ll get wind of this?" asked Tim. "Specially right now?"

"Nope! There's a spell on this place. Th'same as the spell on Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

"What spell?"

"What happens at th' Leaky, stays at th' Leaky. Right, Hannah?"

"Within reason," Hannah told Potter's drinking companions. "If it's a crime, or completely innocent in every way, you can tell other people. Otherwise, you can't. Standard at some pubs, actually."

"That's interesting," the dark-haired woman said. "I didn't know that."

"Well, it's not general knowledge."

"You haveta know somebody who owns a pub. They'll tell you. 'S good to know people who own pubs," said Potter. "I know lotsof people."

Draco gazed at him pityingly. Pathetic. He decided to leave, tossed a few coins onto the bar and had his glass halfway to his mouth to drain it when a heavy weight knocked him forward, spilling the contents of his glass down his shirt front. He swore and turned around to find Potter, leaning on the bar top, mouth slightly open and looking surprised and apologetic.

"Malfoy?" Potter said, glasses askew. "Malfoy. What're you doin' here?"

"Drinking," Draco said, brushing the front of his shirt. "Or rather, spilling."

Potter's mouth quirked in a small smile. "Lemme get you another one. 'S prob'ly my fault it spilled all over you."

"Yes it was," Draco said with distaste. "It's all right, Potter, you don't have to. I was leaving anyway."

"Then let me get rid o' th' spill at least." He took out his wand and Draco stepped back in alarm.

"You're drunk."

Potter's eyebrows went up. "So?"

"Never drink and charm."

Potter sniggered. "Y'sound like a public service announcement. "Friends don't let friends drink 'n Apparate,'" Potter said. "Lissen, don' worry, I've got plenty of practice banishing spilled drinks."

Draco nodded. Rather sad, actually. Potter was probably drunk on a daily basis these days. "You're here often, then?"

"Here? No, not really," Potter said distractedly, focusing on the spill. "Here, hold still. _Seco_," he said, and Draco's chest felt slightly warm. He ran his hand over the cloth, noting it was nicely dry and a bit softer than before.

"Thanks. Erm. Right. I'll just... go, then."

"Right. Nice seeing you, Malfoy," Potter said, and stumbled off to the toilet. Draco made his way to the exit, turning as Potter's voice rang out.

"Oi!" he shouted. "Who made this the ladies'?!"

Draco turned around in time to see a couple of young women exiting the women's toilet giggling. He rolled his eyes and left.

**_ooo000ooo_**

**_The Daily Prophet, October 11th: So Soon? Can It Be?_**

_Despite rumours that celebrity couple Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley have been working on repairing the rift between them, the Prophet has now heard that lawyers are being called in, and a formal petition for divorce is in the works._

_This comes as a shock to many, including most of the couple's closest friends, who appeared as stunned as the rest of us as the two very publicly ended their relationship._

_The situation must be particularly difficult because not only do Potter and Weasley have three young children, but the ties between Potter and his in-laws has always been close. Ron Weasley, Potter's brother-in-law, has been his closest friend since their childhood, and his wife, Hermione Granger, has been Ginny Weasley's closest friend as well. Not only that, but Potter, Ron Weasley and Granger all worked together to bring down Voldemort 22 years ago, and Ron Weasley and Potter have been working together at the Auror Office since shortly after the war ended._

_"That's a lot of history," commented Susie Dawlish, one of Potter's fellow Aurors. "A lot of closeness. To see it all end like this, it's just sad."_

_While Ginny Weasley has been notoriously absent from public view, Harry Potter has instead been seen drinking and carousing in public quite frequently. Without knowing the reasons behind the couple's split, who can say whether he is nursing a broken heart, or guilt?_

**ooo000ooo**

Draco idly twirled the wine at the bottom of his second glass, turning it different colours. A spell Asteria had taught him during their first years together. She'd tried to teach it to Scorpius too, but somehow he always seemed to make liquids fizz instead of change colours. It wasn't that difficult, really... Scorpius just always had a difficult time with more delicate control over his Charms. Which had begun to interfere with his grades, according to his last letter home.

Maybe he needed a tutor. It wouldn't have mattered to Draco at that age - although he'd always been fairly good at Charms, so it wasn't an issue - but Scorpius was a Ravenclaw, and struggling for grades was as deadly in that House as having one's family fall out of favour socially was in Slytherin.

"C'mon. 'Mnot jokin'. Try it, you'll like it."

"It's 'sploding."

Draco turned around at the familiar voice, and rolled his eyes.

Potter. Sloshed. Again. How charming.

"Won' esplode when you swallow it. Jus' tingles." The disgracefully drunk witch with him was apparently trying to get him to imbibe something luridly purple and alarming, and Potter was apparently not drunk enough to take her up on it. _Fascinating._

Draco turned back to his drink and his ruminations. It wasn't as though Scorpius were truly struggling; merely getting "Acceptable" on his course work, which apparently was an unforgivable sin in his House. Once more he wondered why Scorpius had Sorted there; mostly he was pleased, in that distancing themselves from Slytherin was probably a good thing for the Malfoy family, but it did make some school issues rather baffling to deal with.

"Fuck!"

Draco turned around and rolled his eyes again. Apparently Potter had foolishly decided to believe the woman, who was now almost urinating herself laughing as he tried to put out a fire inside his mouth.

What was this, now? Three times this year that Draco had run into Potter at a pub?

"Yer on fire for me," the witch slurred, and happily Potter apparently could not muster a more definite answer than a gurgle and hiss. "Wan' me to kiss'n make it better?"

Draco grimaced. Ugh, drunk pick-ups. He supposed it would be natural for Potter to start dating other people now that his own marriage was so publicly deceased, but doing it like this, drunk at a bar... somehow Draco would've expected better from him.

Potter was still coughing, smoke pouring from his mouth.

"You - lied!" he choked out, apparently trying to look outraged but it was hard to do so when you looked like a speccy hearth doused with alcohol.

"Should I try putting that flame a littlebit lower?"

"Fer what?"

"To set you on fire," the woman said, evidently trying to be coy, and Draco's eyes were beginning to hurt from the rolling. He turned away from them firmly, going back to changing the colour of his wine and just allowing the hum of the half-empty pub to wash over him and take away the various small dissatisfactions and annoyances of his day. It was that or go home, where Asteria was happily organising a benefit for Muggle-born artists or... whatever incomprehensible worthy project she'd latched on to these days. Orphaned Pixies? Troll Control? Here was better.

Although it was a bit annoying, trying to get himself into a relaxed and relatively content frame of mind when the soothing pub-hum kept being interrupted by Potter and his lady friend's increasingly stupid snippets of conversation.

"'Zat a wand in yer pocket or areya jus' happy t' see me?" slurred the witch, and Potter laughed.

"Tha's a good one," he slurred back. "Hang on, wha's another one... Oh! I know! 'F I said you had a beaudiful body, would y'hold it agains' me?"

Draco looked over at them, half annoyed, half curious. Potter was laughing, the witch giggling but looking a bit annoyed, as Potter evidently completely missed the subtle signs she was attempting to send his way.

He smirked in sympathy - either with the woman or Potter, he wasn't sure. She had a bit of a Bulstrode air about her. Not completely unappealing, but hatchet-faced, sturdy, and probably much better suited to throwing Potter over her shoulder and carrying him off to her lair than trying to play coy and simpering. Maybe Potter would like that. Or at least notice it.

"'F I tell you somethin', will you still respec' me in the mornin'?" she asked hopefully.

_I certainly won't,_ Draco thought, _but then, I don't respect you now, so..._

"Depens what you tell me," said Potter.

Oh come, Potter, she's in heat, Draco thought impatiently. Take her to bed before her sensible panties catch on fire.

Ugh, bad image, that. Draco turned back to his drink. To thoughts of Scorpius and his probable need for a tutor, and the letter that they'd received from him the other day.

It didn't matter that Scorpius pretty much only ever talked about his lessons in his letters. Fifteen-year-old boys didn't write about their hopes or dreams, insecurities or disappointments. Draco certainly hadn't at that age. Hadn't had much to write about along those lines. Except for sixth and seventh year, when he would've died rather than share how he felt with his parents, even if it had been possible to do so.

Scorpius didn't have anything like that going on in his life. And that was a good thing.

And Asteria didn't seem to mind how superficial their son's letters were. Then again, Asteria didn't mind much, as long as she had her social events and benefits going on, filling their home with her busy, chatty, and somewhat vacant friends. Draco checked his watch, trying to decide how likely it was that his home was still infested, or whether he could chance going back.

One more drink, maybe. He signalled the bar and nodded his thanks as another glass came floating towards him, and took an appreciative sip, closing his eyes. Fairly good vintage, for a pub--

He opened his eyes in annoyance as his enjoyment of the wine was interrupted by a sort of _squeak _from the direction of Potter and his determined lady friend, and looked over at them.

Draco's eyebrows went up. The woman had now apparently decided to grasp the bull by its horns - ugh, delete_ that_ mental phrase - and had pulled Potter into an embrace that managed, somehow, to bring their mouths within slobbering distance.

Which appeared to hit Potter as completely unexpected. He was actually drawing back from her and for a moment Draco almost expected him to shriek in outraged modesty.

Then the part of him that evidently hadn't yet been totally drowned by alcohol caught up with him and, with a look of total bemusement, he leaned forward again, and they kissed.

Badly.

Draco couldn't help but snigger as their kiss continued. A for effort, C for technique, D for hotness. And seriously, if they couldn't get him hot after... how long since he and Asteria had had sex? They needed a manual.

For a brief instant he considered offering technical assistance. For which of them, he wasn't entirely sure.

Would that even out the years-old debt? Potter saving Draco's life twice and keeping him out of Azkaban, balanced against some timely advice on how to get the best out of bedding a sodden, besotted witch?

Amused and only slightly intrigued at the mental image, he tossed down a few Galleons and headed for home.

**_ooo000ooo_**

**_The Daily Prophet, November 7th: Together Again?_**

_It's true. This paper has confirmed rumours that celebrity couple Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley have been seen together again, spotted at a Magpies-Cannons game last night. Witnesses say the two didn't seem to pay much attention to the game, talking together for most of the hour it lasted. Could this be reconciliation?_

_Close family friend Natasha Spinner asserts, "They are more in love than ever before. They're together all the time. They just haven't been seen together before now."_

_"He's forgiven her," she adds. "For breaking his heart and humiliating him in public. He's just said that's water under the bridge, and has welcomed her back with open arms."_

_But who can tell if - or when - the woman who broke Harry Potter's heart once will break it again?_

**ooo000ooo**

"Malfoy? What are you doing here?"

Draco turned around, suppressing a sigh. Bugger it all, could he not go three days without running into Potter these days?

"Getting lunch," he said shortly, and realised as Potter's eyebrow went up that his tone had been a bit rude. "Sorry, it's been a long morning."

Potter nodded. "Yeah, for me too." They looked around the pub, almost bursting with the lunch crowd. Probably overflow from some sort of celebrity signing event at Flourish and Blotts next door.

"Oh this is going to take forever," Potter said, glancing at his watch.

"Are you in a hurry?"

"Yeah, disciplinary hearing in an hour." He glanced around. "Really don't have time for this..." he muttered under his breath.

"Disciplinary hearing?" Draco repeated. Good lord, for a department head? What the hell had Potter been up to lately?

None of my business, really, Draco reminded himself sternly. Potter's public devolution might be sucking half the wizarding world in to gape at the spectacle, poor sod; Draco certainly didn't have to join in.

Even if he was sort of tempted to.

"Yeah, it's going to be a bloody mess." Potter blew out his breath grimly. "Have you been waiting long?"

"About ten minutes. There's somebody else behind me, too, she's just gone to the ladies'."

There was a brief silence.

"Erm, do you come here a lot?" Potter asked politely.

"No, not that often."

Another silence.

"Ah, there we go," Draco said, relieved to see the head waiter coming to get him. "My table's free," he said, nodding a goodbye at Potter, who nodded back, checked his watch, and started to do up his outer robes again, obviously deciding not to wait for a table any longer.

"Potter," Draco said before he could stop himself. Potter looked back. "You can share my table, if you're in that much of a hurry."

Potter looked surprised, then gave him a relieved smile. "You don't mind?"

"Not at all," Draco said, and Potter followed him. "They are generally fairly fast here," he pointed out, not entirely sure why he hadn't just let Potter be on his way.

Curiosity? Charity?

"Yeah, it's good food too," Potter said. "Going to need it before the hearing."

"A formal hearing?" he asked, feigning disinterest, and they paused to allow the waitress to take their orders.

"Yeah," said Potter as she left. "It's hard enough fighting the baddies, but it's even harder fighting your own colleagues. Worst part of the job, really." Potter wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"I can imagine. What kind of thing gets a formal hearing?"

Potter shrugged. "One of the trainees that qualified last month has been fucking up with enormous frequency. Got blind drunk the other day and almost got her partner killed."

Draco whistled.

"Yeah, it's depressing," Potter said distractedly, as the waitress brought them their sandwiches. "We're not sure what's going on with the training department." He suddenly looked up. "Oh shit, and I probably shouldn't have said even that much. Forget everything I said."

"Is it confidential?"

"Well, no, not officially confidential. If it was, I wouldn't've said anything. But I am supposed to 'lead by example' and all that rubbish, and not talk out of shop." He took a bite of his sandwich, swallowed it. "So... what are you up to these days?"

"Still working at the Department of Magical Creatures," Draco said, noting with a bit of surprise that whatever sense of inferiority or resentment he might've once felt concerning the humdrum nature of his job and the glamour of Potter's was entirely absent.

"Right, I remember," Potter said. "Fourth level. Funny we never run into each other, working at the same place."

"I do seem to run into you everywhere else."

Potter nodded. "Yeah, I'm out a lot more these days than I used to be. Haven't seen you much..."

"You were... a bit under the weather the last time I saw you."

Potter frowned, then his face cleared and he grinned sheepishly. "Ah. Yeah, now I remember - I spilled your drink, didn't I?"

Draco nodded, deciding to be kind and not bring up the night he'd seen Potter and his pitifully persistent female companion.

"Sorry about that," Potter said, and chuckled. "I really went on a bender that night. Ron nearly went mental trying to hide me from Hermione when we went home."

"Weasley was there? I didn't see him."

Potter frowned. "At the Pony?"

"No, this was at the Leaky."

"Ah. Oh, right, I remember - Wednesday was the Leaky, right." Potter shrugged carelessly and tucked into his sandwich, and Draco winced inwardly. That was at least four nights in quick succession that he'd been making a pathetic idiot of himself in public - the karaoke bar, the incident at the Leaky, the inebriated public mating dance, and whatever had happened at the Pony that was bad enough that Ron Weasley had wanted to hide him from Granger's sight.

Poor sod. His liver was probably trying to work out how to ditch him for a more responsible host.

Well, Potter's loss was his gain, Draco supposed. Draco's own life might lack a little lustre these days, but thanks to Potter he could at least take comfort from the fact that his marriage wasn't crumbling on the front pages of all the wizarding papers, and his liver was still firmly in place, and grateful for its location.

**_ooo000ooo_**

**_The Inquisitor, December 22nd: Resigned? Off the Deep End?_**

_Shocking rumours surrounding the personal and professional life of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, have been proven right. Harry Potter has indeed handed in his resignation to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, sources confirmed today._

_Harry Potter first joined the Auror Office at the tender age of seventeen, without even having finished Hogwarts, and became Head of the department at the shockingly young age of twenty-seven, the second youngest Head ever appointed in the history of the department. (The youngest, Spenser "Spotty" Sinks, was fifteen when appointed and sixteen when demoted and imprisoned, after it was confirmed that he had used the Imperius curse on the Minister for Magic to obtain both the appointment, and the Floo address of a girl he fancied.)_

_"He says he's retiring," says a source close to Potter. "He told me he's tired of chasing criminals and spending all his time trying to save the wizarding world. Says he wants to do something more fun."_

_"Tired of being messed around by that wife of his, more like it," says close friend Neville Longbottom. "His performance as an Auror and head of department had deteriorated quite markedly of late. Probably didn't want to put anybody in danger."_

_Asked whether it was true his wife and he were reconciling?_

_"No, not at all.__ They hate each other. The reconciliation rumour was a complete farce. And I don't know how Harry's going to afford the divorce settlement now."_

_Stay tuned._

**ooo000ooo**

"All right then, goodbye, Scorpius," Draco said, shaking Scorpius's hand. He stepped back as Scorpius and two of his friends took hold of the Portkey and disappeared, and suppressed a sigh. He looked around, seeing that only a few groups of kids were left.

"Don't forget to write!" said a mother to her daughter and her daughter nodded before disappearing in a flash.

"I expect better marks from you this term," said another father sternly, and his daughter wrapped her Ravenclaw scarf a little tighter and nodded, taking hold of her Portkey and vanishing away.

He turned at the sound of a familiar voice, and was not surprised that Potter was here too, as the wizarding world appeared to have recently shrunk to the approximate size of an owl cage, with him and Potter inhabiting the same spot of real estate under the water dish.

"...and Lily, I can't believe I'm saying this but for God's sake, Quidditch is not the only thing in life. Better marks in Potions this term, or I'll tell Aunt Hermione and you'll get a Howler."

The girl nodded. "All right, Dad," she said quietly, then she grabbed her Portkey and spun away, along with her brothers.

Potter stood for a moment, looking a bit bereft, then turned to leave and noticed Draco.

"Malfoy," he said, and nodded pleasantly.

"Potter," Draco nodded back. They headed for the Portkey station exit and were stopped short by the security guard.

"Hold on everybody, there's going to be a bit of a delay."

"Why?"

"We'll let you know when it's safe to exit."

Draco and Potter stood, glanced at each other.

"Wonder what's going on," Potter said.

"Probably a busload of Muggles," Draco said. "Isn't the exit point near Trafalgar Square?"

"Yeah."

"Bloody stupid place to put it," Draco commented.

"Too right. Give me King's Cross any day. Who decided it's cheaper to do it this way at Christmas anyway?"

Draco shrugged, and silence descended again.

"Had a good holiday?" Potter asked.

"Yeah, fairly good. You?"

"Yeah, it's always nice to see the kids. I can't believe how big they are. When you don't see them for months it's like they shoot up overnight."

"I know. And Scorpius is acquiring the most appalling vocabulary." He considered commenting on the fact that apparently Scorpius was acquiring it from one of Potter's nieces, then decided against it. Not without knowing whether Potter was still speaking to his in-laws or not.

"Yeah, same with Albus," Potter said, smiling slightly. "And James - that's my eldest - is studying for his NEWTs, and going out with a Slytherin. Time flies."

They fell back into silence. Draco glanced at his watch.

"Do you have to be somewhere?" Potter asked.

Draco nodded. "Departmental meeting."

"What is it you do, anyway?" Potter asked. "I know you work for the Department of Magical Creatures, but what do you do there?"

"Deal with magical creatures."

"Yeah thanks, I worked that part out. But what do you do? Do you have a lot of contact with magical creatures?"

"No, not really. We have representatives out in the field, talking to magical creatures, making sure they're treated fairly, finding out their concerns. They bring their findings to us and we deal with them. You know, making sure nobody trespasses onto centaur lands, keeping Muggle ships out of merfolk waters, dealing with complaints of abuse to elves. Mostly involves a lot of meetings and Floo calls. A lot of paperwork."

Potter nodded. "Sounds like Auror work, then. Most people assumed I was out hunting Dark wizards all the time. Scary stuff. Usually involved a lot of highly dangerous meetings and memos." Potter smiled. "Which is why I quit. You're a better man than I, if you can deal with that kind of thing for a living."

Draco blinked. "I thought you left because..." _you're slowly disintegrating in public._

Potter laughed. "Because my personal life was a mess?"

Draco shrugged uncomfortably. "I suppose so."

"Not really, I just got tired of the hassle."

"Not terribly fulfilling?"

"It was, for a long time. But things change. I realised I wasn't sure why I was there any more."

"Paid the bills, I suppose," Draco said.

"Yeah, there is that." He shrugged. "Money isn't everything."

Draco frowned. "Well, take my advice and invest in a good solicitor, Potter. It's amazing how many ex-spouses suddenly find the need to bleed their former partner dry."

"Ginny's not like that."

"If you say so. But it wouldn't do any harm to keep your eye on how much maintenance you're paying out every week."

"What?" Potter frowned, puzzled. "I'm not paying maintenance."

"Really?"

"We're not divorcing."

Draco stared at him.

"Besides, she's got plenty of her own money. She was with the Harpies for an awfully long time."

"But..."

"Oh good," Potter said, as the security guard popped back in and started letting parents back out. "Might not be late for work after all."

"I thought you retired."

"From the Aurors' Office, yeah," he said, and grinned. "New job now. Much more fulfilling."

"Where are you working?"

"Man has to keep some secrets. It's fun. Dunno how long I'll be there. We'll see. Anyway, see you, Malfoy."

"See you."

Draco watched him go, considering the empty space inside himself where his hatred of the man used to thrive. It seemed to have been drowned by hundreds of gallons of water under the bridge, and by everything Potter had done for him. He had swung uncomfortably between gratitude and resentment for a long time before finally accepting the hand fate had dealt him and moving on to focus on other things. Sometimes you had to grow up, even if you didn't want to, even if you wanted to hold on to your childhood grudges, stamp your bratty little feet with impotent rage and plot revenge.

Well, life was doing that enough to Potter, stamping all over him. If Draco had ever wanted revenge, Potter's current situation probably went beyond what he could've asked for. Although he couldn't help but notice that Potter didn't seem, outwardly at least, to be crushed under the weight of his losses. Even as a loser, he was losing it in style.

And no, that didn't make Draco resent him. Or admire him. Not at all.

**_ooo000ooo_**

**_The Quibbler, March 5th: Disappeared?_**

_Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world and on-again, off-again jilted husband of Ginny Weasley, has disappeared._

_Is foul play suspected?_

_"It's hard to tell, at this point," says an unnamed source from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "He's just been so erratic for so long, it's difficult to predict what's going to happen next."_

_And what about his family?__ Do they know anything?_

_"No idea," says George Weasley, brother-in-law of Potter and proprietor of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, where Potter has often been seen of late. "As far as I know, he's just on holiday. Now unless you want to buy a Farting Frisbee, shove off."_

_That kind of cavalier attitude is almost certainly not appreciated by his children, who must be worried that their father has vanished without a trace. Then again, it is highly possible that they have joined the rest of the Weasley family in turning their backs on Potter, after his split from Ginny Weasley._

_Will he ever come back? How long will he be missing before his so-called family and friends get worried? Considering Potter was an Auror, and then headed the Auror Office for many years, and has made more than a few serious enemies, his disappearance should probably not be taken lightly._

**ooo000ooo**

Draco looked up from the report he was reading, annoyed at the sudden influx of noise from a large crowd that had just shown up at the pub. And oh, wonderful, it looked like they were settling into a set of tables close to his, where he'd be able to hear every word they shouted and probably have to give up on the report he was determinedly slogging through. Might even have to go home if they got too loud.

He frowned, realising as the crowd settled that some of them looked familiar. No, couldn't be...

He blew out his breath in slight irritation. That was definitely Ginny Weasley, sharing flirtatious looks with a handsome but rather stupid looking young blond man. An assortment of people were sitting down with them, but, no surprise, Potter wasn't among them. Draco recognised Luna Lovegood, and a Weasley-looking man Draco was almost sure was Percy Weasley, former Hogwarts Head Boy. There was also a man and a woman Draco didn't recognise, and an assortment of predominantly redheaded older children and teens, some of whom Draco was sure he recognised from King's Cross and the karaoke bar Potter had tortured last summer.

"..._why_ don't unicorns like boys?" one of the youngsters was asking.

"Because boys smell," the youngest redheaded girl said promptly.

"Lucy," said Ginny Weasley reprovingly.

"They do," said Lucy, and a spirited discussion sprang up among the kids. Draco turned away, not particularly interested in eavesdropping on conversations among people who weren't even Potter. He went back to his reading.

Not that he needed to eavesdrop on Potter's conversations either.

He looked up as his drink arrived, glancing at the rowdy table again. The unicorn discussion appeared to have ended with no casualties, though it seemed the general theme of the night was magical creatures.

"... Thestrals look like, then?" asked one of the boys.

"Ugly," said the woman sitting next to Percy Weasley. "Ugly horse skeletons."

"You can see them?" asked another boy.

"Yes," she said tersely.

"Mum can see them too," said another girl. "And Uncle Percy and Aunt Luna too."

"Who did you see die?" asked Ginny's blond companion, and she gave him an annoyed and slightly disbelieving glance before pursing her lips and answering.

"Too many people," she said curtly. "But Sirius Black first."

"And you?" the man asked Lovegood.

"My mum," said Lovegood serenely. "And then a lot of others."

"My brother Fred, first," said Percy shortly as the man looked at him.

"Thestrals sound so cool!" he said enviously. "Wish I could see them!"

"No, you don't," Percy said coldly. "I certainly wish I couldn't."

"And we can probably lose this topic any moment now," Ginny said, equally coldly. Her companion gave her a puzzled glance, which she returned icily.

Draco gazed at their table thoughtfully as the conversation carried on. Other than the slight chill between Potter's ex and the blond man next to her, the rest of them seemed to be enjoying themselves, now that they weren't talking about Thestrals. Certainly Potter's children didn't seem to be missing him, though he wondered where the other son was, the one who'd sung onstage at the karaoke bar. Maybe with Potter?

Maybe not. Nobody seemed worried. Strange; Potter seemed to have loved his kids a great deal. Maybe he had told them where he was going. It was difficult to say.

And it wasn't any of his business, really. No matter that it made him actually feel for Potter, in a way that even the semi-entertaining drunken encounters had done. This wasn't amusing at all.

He checked his watch; nine o'clock, probably late enough. He closed his report, paid for his drink and went home, finding Asteria in the parlour, playing the piano.

"Oh you're home early," she said, giving him a warm smile and continuing her song.

"Thought you were hosting the Mermish Outreach Alliance tonight?" he said.

"Oh no dear, that was last week." She smiled at him again, frowning slightly as she reached a difficult passage in her piece. He nodded. Excellent; Mermish Alliance meetings always filled the house with weird ululating cries, and he'd gone to the pub tonight to avoid it.

He kissed her cheek and went upstairs to finish his reading, still musing on the large family he'd seen at the pub, the way they seemed to get along despite their huge numbers. He'd never had that. Never really wanted it. Small was better; far less noise and conflict, certainly. Most of the time he and Asteria didn't even need to talk. Not that she would have had much to tell him, if she did.

He went into the study, finding a note from Asteria on his desk. _Dear, I asked Gitchi to make you some of that pudding you liked so much last week. Tap on the parchment when you want it and she'll pop in._

He smiled and tapped on the parchment, cheered by the small pudding. So typical of Asteria. Eternally cheerful and thoughtful and sunny. Idly he wondered what it might be like to be so satisfied with one's life, so serene. He'd certainly never know.

Ginny Weasley certainly didn't seem serene; not only was her marriage on the rocks, but the pretty dolt she'd been with at the pub hardly seemed like he was keeping her happy, judging from the cold, contemptuous look she'd given him. Draco had never seen Asteria look like that. Didn't think she was capable of it.

Granted, the dolt had been acting quite the prat. He looked somewhat younger than the other adults at the table, but even schoolchildren knew about the Second Voldemort Rising and would probably know enough to understand that it wasn't a topic to be bandied about lightly. Asking "who did you see die?" as guilelessly as a child might ask it. Wishing he could see Thestrals. Even Asteria wouldn't be that clueless.

Draco settled himself comfortably in his chair, took a small bite of custard tart, and commenced reading once more.

**_ooo000ooo_**

**_The Inquisitor, May 5th: Reconciled?_**

_Can it be? Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, who has been in a severe downward spiral for months as his marriage with former Harpies Chaser Ginny Weasley dissolved and who completely dropped out of sight for over two months, prompting fears for his safety, has been seen around town lately with none other than his estranged wife. Though not the first reconciliation we have seen, this one seems serious. And the question we're all asking is, When will they make up their minds? And can anything be saved of this once fairytale marriage? What with persistent rumours of adultery, alcohol abuse, bizarre public behaviour and a worrisome and a months-long - and as yet unexplained - disappearance, it's doubtful that any but the most skilled Seers could predict how this particular story will end._

**ooo000ooo**

What the--

Harry Potter was back.

... sort of. Harry Potter with dark skin, more than a few days' worth of stubble, hair cut so brutally short it looked like a layer of black fuzz, a gold hoop in one ear, and tattoos on the tanned arm that he was extending to the bar.

Harry Potter, Pirate Lord of the British Isles.

Facial hair did not flatter him at all, Draco decided. Nor did the crew cut. He looked very... healthy, though, and larger than life somehow. For a slight man, he certainly had a lot of presence. Animal magnetism.

Draco immediately winced. Animal magnetism? Where did that come from? Memo to self: hands off the trashy romance novels Asteria left in a stack in the bathroom.

Animal magnetism or no, once again, Potter was feeling no pain. Draco wondered if he'd spent the entire time he was missing in a drunken haze.

And now he was approaching Draco, because apparently life didn't hate Draco enough at this point in time. It had to present Potter to him in a way that suddenly made Draco remember that he had sometimes batted for the other team, and then send him, tanned and scruffy and almost radiant, straight in Draco's direction.

Draco scooted back on his bar stool, looking down and avoiding eye contact, as Potter came to the bar and ordered something, his voice lost in the loudness of the bar. He reached out to get his order - two beers, looked like - and Draco squinted, getting a look at his forearm. A stag, a doe, and two wolves darted around his arm, and a phoenix dove down among them.

"Malfoy?"

Bugger.

"Potter, hello. You're back."

"Yeah, I'm back. How are you?"

"Fine, thanks. Yourself?"

"Good, good," Potter said, popping open his bottle and taking a long drink.

"I heard you were away," Draco said, to cover the awkwardness that Potter didn't seem to feel.

"Yeah, I was travelling for a bit."

"Nobody knew where you'd gone?"

Potter laughed. "Oh did you read that? My kids had a great time with that, sending me clippings of their 'mysteriously missing' Dad."

Draco blinked. "What? Was that some sort of hoax?"

"Was what a hoax - oh you mean did they tell the paper I'd disappeared? Oh God no. At least I hope not." He frowned briefly. "Should probably ask James about that, now that I think about it. No, as far as I know they just read it in the papers same as everyone else. 'Cept that they knew where I'd gone. Or rather, no, they didn't know, but they knew I was all right."

"And they sent you owls of the papers?"

"Yeah, it was fun." He grinned. "I wouldn't be surprised now, come to think of it, if James helped that along on purpose, feeding the papers bits and pieces. Or maybe deliberately made my situation sound more dire than it was. I can just see him now, 'No, we don't know where our dad's gone... if you find out, could you tell us? We're just about going mental...' which was true, actually. I didn't tell them, they were going spare."

"Why didn't you tell them?"

"Wanted it to be a surprise. They didn't know till they followed the Portkey I sent them."

"Wait. What?"

"Oh, I went on holiday," said Potter cheerfully. "Sort of bounced around South America and Asia for a few weeks, sending them hints about where I was. Then when I found a nice spot, I sent for them. They were there with me for the last week. Marvellous time." He laughed. "They weren't so pleased when they first got there, though. I'd hinted that I was somewhere cold, so they got there all bundled up, only to find we were in São Gwydion. Heart of the Amazon rainforest."

Draco nodded, picturing a group of children dressed up in layers of Weasley-style cast-off clothes. It wasn't a pretty image.

"Great wizarding community," Potter said, not seeming bothered by the fact that Draco wasn't contributing to the conversation at all.

"Harry?" a tall man appeared at Potter's side. "Where's my order?"

"Oh! Phil, here, sorry, forgot." Potter flashed the other man a smile and handed over a bottle. The other man took it, glancing sharply at Draco.

"Phil, this is Draco; Draco, Phil," Potter said. "The boys loved it. They even found a magical tattoo parlour, pestered me till I got some done. Like them?" He held out his arm and Draco nodded politely, noting that one of the wolves was in fact a dog. A large, black dog, drawn so realistically it wouldn't've surprised Draco in the least to hear him bark.

"I like them too," said Phil, and casually slung an arm over Potter's shoulder. Draco glanced from him to Potter, whose smile had become a bit strained.

"Phil, I'll be back in a minute, yeah?" he said easily, and Phil gave Draco another glance before practically lunging at Potter and snogging him deeply. He turned away with a smirk, giving Potter what was probably meant to be a coy wink before heading off.

Draco suppressed a gag with great effort, and looked at Potter. Potter's expression was a toss-up between irritated and amused. As he met Draco's eyes, amused won out, and he laughed.

"I'm sorry, that was... that's Phil. He's a bit possessive."

"You're... erm... involved? With him?"

Potter tilted his head to the side. "Ah. Well. Erm." He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "'Yes' doesn't sound right, somehow. 'I don't know' makes me sound like a right prat. Going into an explanation would probably require me to share waay too much information for both of us. So I'm gonna say 'No,' and hope Phil doesn't hear, or he's gonna hex my balls off." He took a long swig from his bottle, then nodded to himself. "Right. And that's not a good sign. I think I've just talked myself into a solid 'No,' for real."

Draco blinked. What the... "Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm not drunk," Potter said laughing. "I may look like a refugee from a Muggle pirate flick, and be deciding the fate of a romantic relationship based on a conversation with you, of all people, but I'm actually not drunk, believe it or not." He pushed off the edge of the bar. "Nice seeing you, Malfoy. And, erm... thanks for helping me decide the Phil question. If you read in the papers that I'm bollocks-less, you'll know it's because I dared to break up with one of the neediest blokes I've ever met. Who's also barking-at-trees insane on occasion."

Draco couldn't help laughing with him as he headed off. Speaking of barking-at-trees insane...


	2. Chapter 2

_**The Inquisitor, May 17th: Adultery?**_

_Could it be? The Inquisitor has learned that at the heart of the estrangement between Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and his wife Ginny Weasley, there may be nothing less than adultery. Specifically, Weasley, of Harpies fame, has been spotted out and about town with Joseph (Joey) Kinnel, the current Puddlemere Keeper._

_"They're a little too chummy," says close Weasley friend and WWN Anchor Lee Jordan. "I've always thought there was something awfully strange about that friendship. Everybody knew that she stayed in his hotel room a few times, while they were playing. Which nobody wanted to talk about at the time, of course. It's a shame that this has come up; we all thought Ginny and Harry's marriage was getting back in shape, and now this is sure to ring the death knell on it."_

_There are of course two sides to every story, this reporter would like to point out. After all, sometimes a wife who goes behind her husband's back only does so because he has neglected her. Could this be the case with Mr. Potter?_

**ooo000ooo**

Draco squinted at the items on the bottom shelf. Of all the things for Scorpius to have asked him to do...

He had really hoped that once his son had got over the Weasley crush he'd had last year that they'd heard the last of that bloody family. Then again, he'd also hoped that since Molly Weasley was a Ravenclaw like Scorpius, a year older than Scorpius, and the daughter of Percy Weasley, she wouldn't be of the same mould as the rest of her clan. No such luck. The girl had been impulsive, stubborn, and had a mouth like a sailor. And a knack for impotence charms when crossed, apparently, though Scorpius had maintained that she'd hexed him with spots. Draco had only found out about the impotence because Tracey Davis, Madam Pomfrey's replacement, had once been in Slytherin, and thought to inform Draco of his son's business.

Next Scorpius had moved on to one of the Weasley boys, this one a year younger and a Gryffindor to boot. Hadn't lasted as a romance, but the two had somehow remained good friends afterwards anyway. And now Scorpius was apparently again going out with another fellow Ravenclaw, Granger's daughter Rose. And had asked Draco to go to his chum's dad's shop to pick out a WonderWitch product for her.

Really, he and Asteria should've waited another ten years before reproducing, rather than doing so in the midst of an epidemic of Weasleys. Scorpius appeared to be working his way through the ranks of Weasleys, and Mother sometimes had to bite her lip raw and bloody to not say anything about it at family dinners. Draco had had to remind her several times that it wasn't as though Scorpius had much of a choice in the matter; if he didn't date Weasleys, he'd probably be celibate.

Which didn't seem like such a bad plan, at the present moment in time.

No. At the present moment in time, this particular Weasley girl was going to have to like whatever Draco picked. Though perhaps he should tell Scorpius that if he wanted to impress his girl with a joke gift, he'd bloody well have to not get a detention next time there was a Hogsmeade weekend.

Perhaps he should tell Scorpius nothing of the sort. Scorpius so rarely turned to him for anything, so rarely let him in on what was going on in his life, other than the bare facts of what subjects he was taking and the name of whoever he was going out with. His son had asked Draco to help him out and by Merlin, he was going to.

He was gazing at the small flask he'd picked thoughtfully when a voice behind him startled him.

"Did you find what you wanted?"

He turned around and... of course. Who else?

"Potter," he said, rubbing the spot between his eyes which had suddenly begun to twitch.

"Malfoy. I won't ask what you're doing here," Potter grinned.

"Thanks."

"Did you find what you wanted?"

Draco frowned at him. "Yes, I suppose so. You?"

Potter tilted his head to the side, amused, and Draco noticed his attire. _Merlin._ What an atrocious colour of -

He blinked. No. Couldn't be. But there it was, in lurid goldenrod-on-fuchsia, _WWW _emblazoned across Potter's chest.

"This. Is your new job."

Potter nodded cheerfully. "Four months now."

Draco just gaped. "You were Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. And now you work at a joke shop."

"Brilliant, isn't it?"

Brilliant. "You're a stock boy? Cleaner?"

"Nope! Sales assistant, and I help George with inventions. He's going more into sports pranks, so I've been helping to develop some new brooms. No idea yet how big they'll be, but the nice thing about George's business is, it does well enough that he can afford to research the most bizarre ideas in the world. And if they fail, it doesn't matter."

Draco realised he was still blinking stupidly. "You're a sales assistant. Here. How..."

"Is that what you wanted?" Potter said, indicating the bottle.

"What? Oh. Yes. I think so, anyway." Draco looked back at the small bottle. "To tell you the truth, I'm not really sure. My son wanted it for... erm... for a girl he's interested in."

"He's going to give a Wheezes product to a girl he likes? That's brave. Or foolish."

"Probably both. A... friend of his suggested it."

Potter tilted his head to the side. "This girl wouldn't be Rose, would it? Rose Weasley?"

Draco's eyebrows went up.

"You do know my son Al's in their year, right? He told me he thought those two might be... erm."

They looked at each other uncertainly for a moment, then Draco blew out his breath.

"Yes. Rose Weasley, God help us."

Potter laughed. "She's a good girl. Though she's not much like either of her parents. And she really likes Scorpius, too." He cleared his throat. "So does Al, by the way. He's had nothing but good things to say about him. Says he's very bright."

Draco nodded, highly surprised and inexplicably quite pleased.

"So," Potter said, looking at the shelves of WonderWitch Daydream products with a businesslike air. "If it's Rose he wants to impress, don't go for this one. Rose doesn't much like flower gardens; forests are more her thing. This one," he picked up a different bottle, "even has a unicorn in it. Very realistic."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah, it's a big hit. She might want to share it with her friends, too, make her even more popular. I think she'll like it."

Draco followed Potter to the till and waited for Potter to ring his purchase through and hand him his package. He took it, nodded thanks, hesitated, then found himself speaking before he could stop himself. "What else has your son said about - no, it's none of my business." He felt his face grow warm, and hoped Potter couldn't see it.

"About Scorpius?"

Draco nodded, feeling foolish. Stupid, he knew, to care what his classmates thought of him, but Scorpius was such a mystery to him...

"Let's see... clever, funny, good Chaser, abysmal taste in Weasley cousins..."

Draco laughed unexpectedly. "Really?"

"You do know he was seeing Molly for a while?"

"Yes," Draco said, striving for a neutral tone of voice. "And Fred."

Potter chuckled. "Yeah, Freddie's not bad, but I'd cringe a bit if one of my boys took up with Molly too," he said. "Though she does have a good sense of humour. Worked here a few summers. George had to let her go after she got shirty with one too many customers." He glanced at his watch. "Speaking of working here, it's my lunch break." He started to unbutton his work robe. "George?" he yelled towards the back of the shop.

"Yeah!" came back a faint voice.

"Going for lunch!"

"No problem!"

He hung up his work robe and headed for the door, motioning Draco ahead of him through the front door. "Have you met Rose yet?" he asked. "Other than at the station twice a year?"

"No, not really. Scorpius hasn't told me much about her."

"She's wonderful. Really. She likes Scorpius very much, too. Did even before they started going out."

Draco nodded, nonplussed, wondering if Potter somehow knew more about Draco's son than Draco did himself. Potter stopped at the Prancing Pony, his hand on the door, and Draco wasn't going to ask him what else she'd said about him. Wasn't going to ask him what he knew about Scorpius and how Scorpius was really doing at school, what he was really like...

Potter looked at him curiously. "Have you had lunch yet?"

"What? No."

"D'you want to join me?"

Draco considered it for a moment. He supposed it was only polite; he had, in a way, invited Potter to lunch with him once, a few months ago; turning him down now, when he'd just said he hadn't had lunch yet, would be rude. "All right, yeah."

"They're fairly quick here," Potter said, leading Draco to a small table at the back. "I usually stop by for lunch on my Saturday shift. The menu's not huge, but it's good food. Hello, Taryn." Potter smiled as a petite waitress appeared next to their table and rattled off the day's specials to them, taking their orders with a friendly smile.

"So... it's a regular thing, then, this job?" Draco asked after she left.

"You mean, am I on the rota and everything?" Potter grinned. "Yeah. It's been great so far. Pretty stress-free, as long as you don't mind being Transfigured into a footstool on a regular basis. Not that George doesn't take his business seriously, but it's not like the Ministry. If things go wrong it's hardly a disaster. And it's great being responsible only for myself, and not a score of other people waiting for me to mess up."

Draco realised he was staring, and tried to stop.

"What?" Potter looked down at himself. "Do I look odd in some way?"

"What? No."

Potter didn't seem convinced, and checked himself over again. "Occupational hazard of working at Wheezes. Yesterday George sent me home with my face lime green with flourescent yellow polka dots. Didn't notice till I got home." He quickly ran a hand over his hair. "Think it was revenge for last Monday; I made a procession of pink ducks follow him home. Everybody could see them but him." He cast another quick look over himself, then looked back at Draco. "So what is it?"

Draco shook his head, telling himself it was really none of his business... but to hell with it. He cleared his throat. "You just seem very... erm. I would've thought, with everything in the papers..."

Potter laughed. "You'd thought I was some kind of nutter who'd gone off the deep end since my wife ditched me and started spreading her, um, charms, around the entire Quidditch world?"

Draco made himself not gape, startled again by Potter's disorienting ease with the topic of his marital woes and front-page fodder status. "Something like that, yes," he said cautiously. They paused as their waitress came back with their orders, and Draco was pleased to note that Potter was right. The food was rather good.

"You really shouldn't believe everything you read, you know," Potter said, taking a bite of his curry. "It's usually about one third right, one third warped, and one third completely made up." He hesitated for a moment, then leaned a bit closer, his face growing serious. "See, what actually happened was the wife realised she was a dyke."

"What?"

"Well, not technically, not right away; she just said she really wanted to try women. Thought I was the luckiest bloke alive for a while, until she told me she didn't want me watching any more."

Draco gaped.

"Then she said that her girlfriend wanted to get serious."

"So she... left you for a woman?"

"And not just any woman." Potter shook his head sadly. "Someone I could never compete with."

"Who?"

"Minerva McGonagall."

Draco choked. "What?"

Potter's mournful look disappeared and he burst out laughing. "Good God, Malfoy, I'm joking."

"What?"

"My God, can you imagine, McGonagall?" He chuckled some more. "It was nothing like that. Nothing that interesting, anyway."

"The papers seem to think differently."

"I know," Harry said, shaking his head. "Ridiculous, aren't they? The fact is, we're just taking a break from each other. We're not actually divorcing - not yet, anyway - and I don't think she's thrown any chandeliers at me, like the _Inquisitor_ claimed. Or hexed my nostrils closed or jinxed my privates off, like the _Quibbler_ said. Really think I'd've noticed that last one. Although to be honest, she is pretty good with Obliviate spells; says they all used them on their mum when they'd been really bad. Although by 'all' I think she means herself and the twins."

"So you don't hate each other then," Draco said, bringing Potter back to the topic.

"You're not working for the _Prophet_, are you?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Give me some credit."

"Right. No, we don't hate each other. We're just seeing if we still want the same things. We realised we'd been together on and off since we were fifteen and sixteen, and that's a long time. And with the kids away at school, the house was pretty empty, and you know, empty nest syndrome or something. It wasn't working. So we decided to take a break. 'Re-evaluating our priorities,' she called it. Think she got that one from Hermione." He smiled. "Plus she said she didn't want to be one of those pathetic people who does the mid-life crisis thing, so we should get to it before it could be called that." He took a bite of his rice. "Then while we were at it I realised that I also wasn't that interested in being an Auror any more. We've both always just done what was expected of us, you know? I've been fighting baddies my entire life, and it was getting ridiculous. And the crimes I was dealing with... sorry, I'm not Percy Weasley, who's devoted his entire life to defending the wizarding world against overly thin cauldrons and contraband flying carpets. You know? I got an image of myself twenty years from now, with a beer belly and nothing to talk about but tales of glory from my younger days, fiddling away the rest of my life organising departmental meetings and teambuilding workshops. Decided life's too short for that crap."

"So you quit your job, but you're still married, then? No plans to end that?"

"I love her, a lot," Potter said thoughtfully, ignoring his question. "And I don't regret the twenty-odd years we've had. But we're not the same people we were when we got together, and we both needed to know. If we were meant to stay together."

"And are you?"

"Dunno yet."

Draco took a sip of his drink. "It all sounds so civilised."

Harry blinked at him, then burst out laughing. "You have obviously never met my wife," he choked out. "Let's just say that the... civilisation," he sniggered, "you see today wasn't exactly built overnight."

"And this 'exploring' now involves both of you sleeping with other people as well, I gather?"

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, sometimes."

"And she's all right with that?"

Harry narrowed his eyes a bit. "She's all right with it, yeah. Like I said, she's the one who suggested it. To be honest I wasn't terribly thrilled at first. Had this sort of... chest-monster thing going, actually."

"A what?"

"Never mind, bad metaphor. I mean I was jealous."

Draco blinked. Who on earth described jealousy as a chest monster? Chest monster sounded like heartburn. Jealousy burned in the gut. Like envy. At least, how he imagined it felt like, because although he'd had plenty of opportunities to feel envy, he'd never felt jealousy. The idea of Asteria ever cheating was too laughable to take seriously.

Which was a _good_ thing.

"You wife was fairly... popular back in school, wasn't she?" he said carefully.

"Popular?" Potter smirked. "I'm sure you Slytherins had a more colourful description, didn't you?"

Draco wasn't sure whether to share it or not. Not the done thing, to refer to a fellow's wife - or even ex-wife - as a slut.

"She wasn't, you know. Whatever you all called her. She was pretty, and a few blokes asked her out, but she went out with a grand total of three in seven years. Bewildering, the reputation you can get doing that." He took a bite of his curry. "Anyway. We finally worked it out, came to an agreement about how we were going to spend the next few years. And it's been good so far."

"So you're exploring."

"With other people, with a new job in my case, travelling... oh and Ginny's taken up art." He sniggered. "She's pants at it, though. Made a sculpture of poor Al that looked like a bad day at the morgue. Anyway, that's all that's going on. It's worked out pretty well for us. Mostly. We still get together fairly often, though we try to do it away from the public most of the time. The stories in the papers are funny, but they do get a bit annoying eventually. Not to mention my friends are getting tired of being mentioned in there all the time." He shook his head ruefully. "George and Ron and I almost had to tie Lee Jordan down to stop him blowing up Skeeter's house the day she quoted him, and Neville," he laughed, shaking his head. "Ah, poor bloke."

"You mean he hadn't spoken to the papers?"

"Are you joking? _Neville?_The bit they 'quoted' didn't even sound anything like him. He says Bertha Buggles grabbed him coming out of Honeydukes and fired off a load of questions and by the time he'd worked out what she was on about, her Quick-Quote Quill had taken down about a paragraph from him. Says the most he got out was, 'Wha? Harry? Oh yeah, he's a-' and then he tripped over his robe and said a few things that weren't printable, and then the last thing he actually said was 'Bugger, don't write _that_ down!'"

Classic Longbottom. Even professorship couldn't gift him with coherence.

"So we try to get together in private these days. Actually, we're trying to be a bit more discreet about a lot of things. Bloody annoying, but you get used to it. And it's not always so bad. Take this alcove we're sitting in, for example. It's got a privacy spell built in, you only pay a little extra for it, and it happens to be the best seat in the house."

"So how long is this exploring going to continue?"

"James leaves Hogwarts this year, then he's going to travel for a year. Then he'll be back home for good - well, for a few years anyway, hopefully - and Albus'll also be done with school that year, and Lily two years after that. We've given ourselves until two years from now to work it all out."

Draco nodded, forcing his face into impassivity. He was, frankly, a bit repelled. Just up and abandoning one's marriage, one's life, all of one's responsibilities, out of... what? Boredom? Thinking nothing of appearing in the papers, not caring what it might do to one's children to have their parents gossiped about. Not much caring what it did to one's friends to also be front-page fodder, and all for the sake of... a need for adventure? Selfishness?

"Well. It all sounds very... interesting," he said, struggling to keep his disapproval from his face.

"I'd highly recommend it, actually," said Potter. "To anybody who's wondering where they are in their life. Wondering if what they're doing is right for them." He glanced over at Draco consideringly. "You're at a pretty good age for it."

Draco frowned, suddenly a bit uneasy. For a moment he wondered if he had something in his hair - why was Potter looking at him with...

With nothing. Whatever it was, he'd just imagined it.

He brought his attention back to the conversation. "You'd recommend it to me, would you?" he said, a bit snidely. "Without knowing how it would turn out? Without knowing if I'd lose what I have right now?"

"Without knowing what you have right now," Potter said slowly, and this time Draco was fairly sure he wasn't misinterpreting the look in Potter's eyes, "I'd recommend you at least evaluate it." He paused, took a drink. "Just a suggestion," he said casually.

"Yeah. Thanks." He cleared his throat, a bit disturbed. And a bit... and nothing else. He grabbed for a topic changer. "Scorpius has told me your elder son is quite good at Quidditch. Does he know what he's going to be doing - after he comes back from travelling, that is?"

_**ooo000ooo**_

_**The Daily Prophet, July 13th: Wedding Bells?**_

_Could it be? Ginevra Weasley, former Harpies Chaser and soon-to-be ex-wife of Harry Potter, appears to have found true love. Rumours circulated this weekend that the former Harpy has been seriously seeing, and indeed may be tying the knot with, Felix Anderssen, the Danish Dragonpipe sensation. Sources have been frustratingly close-mouthed, but all indications point to a possible elopement some time in the next month._

**ooo000ooo**

He probably shouldn't be here, Draco thought. As he did every Saturday that he came here for lunch.

Which _wasn't_ every week. And Potter wasn't here some of the times that Draco was. So it wasn't as though they had a standing arrangement, or anything. It was just lunch together, once in a while. And not even that often, not lately - the last three weeks he'd shown up, Potter hadn't. Which didn't bother Draco. At all.

He closed his eyes. It didn't bother him. None of what he _wasn't_ thinking about bothered him. Not the nature of the semi-friendship he and Potter were building (first-name basis, even), not the envy he increasingly felt at the life Potter - erm, _Harry_ - was leading, not the way he felt flustered around Harry, or dissatisfied with his own life. Not the article he'd just finished reading about Harry's wife moving on.

Not the way Harry sometimes looked at him. Or the way he sometimes wanted to look back at Harry.

"Draco. It's been a while," Harry's voice almost made Draco jump. Harry sat down next to him. "How've you been?"

"Good. Yourself?"

"Good."

"Where've you been?" Draco asked, not sounding like he cared.

"The Alps, with the kids."

"The entire time?"

"Yeah, for a few weeks, with Ginny. Why? Did you miss me?" Harry asked, smirking. Draco rolled his eyes. "You did, didn't you?"

"No."

"I missed you," Harry said lightly.

"Really."

"No, really. It was interesting. Found I missed our chats at lunch time."

Draco nodded, suddenly feeling a bit uneasy. Something was off. Harry was too... focused.

He glanced at the open paper. Harry's eyes followed his gaze and the corner of his mouth quirked a bit.

"We're still making headlines, I see," he said lightly, and turned the paper face down.

"No truth to it, as usual?"

Harry's eyes were hooded as he shrugged. "The _Prophet_ is bound to report the truth occasionally, if only accidentally," he said with a small inward smile, then waved his wand at the paper and it disappeared. He turned back to Draco.

"What about you? How did you spend your summer?"

"I went to Venice with Scorpius."

"Not your wife?"

"She was organising a benefit for wrongfully freed house-elves."

Harry nodded. "Does that happen a lot?"

"What?"

"That you do things without her."

"Sometimes. We're not joined at the hip."

Harry smirked slightly. "I'd say."

Draco frowned at him. "Why?"

"You hardly ever talk about her."

"Why would I?"

Harry shrugged. "Because she's your wife. Part of your life."

"That doesn't mean I need to talk about her," Draco said, and heard the defensive note in his voice, hating it immediately. "Not all of us need to talk about our spouses. Not all of us have spouses so exciting that _everybody_ wants to talk about them."

Harry's eyes narrowed and Draco could tell he'd scored a hit. "So your wife's not that exciting, is she?" Harry said casually, and there was something dark in his voice. Something a bit threatening, and challenging.

Draco's pulse inexplicably sped up. "She's perfectly exciting. She's just not..."

Harry's gaze was too direct for comfort. He glanced around, and Draco did too, noting that the place was almost empty. And they were in the private alcove. Draco swallowed hard as Harry looked back at him.

He'd told himself, in a rare moment of self-honesty, that he knew perfectly well what was going on, where Harry was likely to try to take their unexpected friendship. And that he would be able to handle it, if it came to that. He was better than Harry. He didn't need to scratch every idle itch of curiosity. He didn't need a pathetic mid-life crisis. He certainly didn't need to become part of Harry's pathetic mid-life crisis, and he'd told himself that if anything... interesting... happened, that he wasn't going to... let Harry... come closer...

He swallowed hard as Harry entered his personal space, and wondered why he wasn't drawing back.

Wondered why he didn't want to.

Wondered when his feelings of ambivalence and resentment and grudging sympathy had turned to curiosity. When that curiosity had become interest.

When that interest had planted its lips upon his, without him actually noticing.

He breathed in, and Harry's lips on his were soft and warm, but the kiss, for all its tentativeness, held very little emotion.

Because Harry didn't really want this, Draco's brain helpfully informed him through the shivers racing through him. Harry didn't want anything other than new experiences, on his road to finding himself. Harry was finding himself; Draco had known who he was for a long, long time. And yet he wasn't pulling away...

Harry broke the kiss and smiled, then cupped Draco's cheek and leaned close for another kiss, evidently having decided that perhaps Draco's failure to pull away was good enough, seeing if there would be a response this time.

And Draco wanted there to be. He tentatively opened his lips and felt Harry smile.

Yes...

This was wrong. So bloody wrong. Not wrong like being forced to go along with the Death Eaters had been wrong. This was wrong for no good reason, it was adultery, Asteria didn't deserve this... and he was still doing it.

Harry and his wife were exploring themselves and the world around them. Because they'd always just done what was expected, Harry said. They needed to know if what was expected was what they really wanted out of life.

Whereas Draco and his wife had also done what was expected and he was perfectly aware that it wasn't what he'd wanted out of life, but it wasn't as if anybody had asked what he wanted.

Asteria was a good, kind woman, a perfect mother, a devoted wife. She'd never made Draco's pulse thrum with excitement the way Harry did - and had, for longer than he cared to admit. Then again, she'd never made him feel as insignificant, as _dull_, as Harry did either.

Harry drew back a bit and smiled. "This isn't so bad," he said, and Draco rolled his eyes, brought back to reality with a resounding crunch.

"Oh please." He drew back, his lip curling in to a sneer. "Spare me. I'm not going to be yet another experiment in your pitiful mid-life crisis."

"Are you saying you didn't like it?" Harry smirked. "Because that little moan at the end and the thing you just did with your-"

Draco ran a hand over his hair. "I once had sex with a Ravenclaw and it was just like this. She almost took notes."

Harry sniggered. "I'm not taking notes. Why, are we going to have sex?"

Draco glared at him. "Not today," he said, getting up.

Harry stared at him, a bit taken aback, and Draco was rather proud of himself for having been able to do that to him. Then Harry looked away, bringing back the poise he'd probably honed to a fine art in twenty years of working as an Auror, and shrugged casually. "Well, you know where I am, if you want to pursue this."

"Yeah," Draco said shortly. "I know where you are."

_**ooo000ooo**_

_**The Inquisitor, July 20th: Potter Children In Peril**_

_The Inquisitor has learned that although the children of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley have been bravely dealing with the fallout as their parents' lives have rapidly spiralled out of control, there are ominous signs that their façade of happiness is starting to crack. Amidst rumours of their mother's possible remarriage, the eldest and youngest of the three are struggling to cope with the chaos._

_"James Potter's a great bloke, but he was drinking like a fish near the end of term and it's not a good thing," says a classmate, who asked not to be identified. "He's always been really cheerful; now he gets angry at the smallest things."_

_"He was missing from school, for days - he even took a swing at a professor," adds another classmate. "It was frightening. I don't know if he got any of his NEWTs. He was a mess."_

_Little Lily Potter, barely twelve, has almost become a wild child, landing herself in detention over and over again, and being seen in the company of boys far older than she._

_"Getting a bit of a reputation, she is," says Philomena Philips, a classmate. "It's sad, really. I think she needs affection in her life because she's not getting it from her parents; they're too busy having fun and behaving like prats."_

_In contrast to his siblings, Albus Potter seems to have channelled his distress into artistic expression, becoming involved in musical performance at Hogwarts and attracting the attention of music critics outside of school._

_"He's brilliant, really," enthused music critic Cornelia Higgins. "Had a bit of a problem with shyness, just wouldn't sing in public for anything. He's got a lot more relaxed lately. Says it's his dad's doing; I think he's trying to show his dad that somebody in the family can make something of themselves and behave decently in public."_

_And what does the rest of the family have to say about this sad state of affairs of the other two children? They have been less than forthcoming, and have even threatened violence when questioned._

_"I don't care what you say about my sister or Harry," said Percy Weasley, older brother of Ginny Weasley and Assistant Head of the Department of Magical Excuses. "But you write one word about those kids and I will hex your large intestine with Burrowing Boils."_

_Why such violent over-protectiveness? Perhaps he has become used to the idea that somebody must look after these children, since their own parents don't seem to care to do so?_

_In any case, isn't it time somebody actually did something to protect them? Won't somebody, please, think of the children?_

**ooo000ooo**

"Hello, Draco," Harry said, dropping onto the bar stool beside him, utterly casual, as though he hadn't made a failed pass at Draco less than a week ago.

Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry, annoyed. This wasn't their usual - _Harry's_ usual Saturday afternoon pub, usual Saturday afternoon standing date. This was Friday at the Leaky, for one thing, and for another thing, Draco had been drinking - not a lot, but enough, and this just wasn't on. And it was rather irritating that Draco couldn't tell whether he was more annoyed at Harry for showing up unexpectedly, or at himself for not getting up and leaving straight away.

He waited while Harry got himself a drink, then took a sip of his own Firewhisky. "Saw your kids in the papers yesterday," he said casually.

Harry's eyes hardened and he flushed. "I am going to kill that fucking reporter," he said, his voice low and full of hatred, and downed his entire glass in one go, almost slamming it back on the bar before wiping his mouth.

Draco's eyebrows went up. "Misquoting again? Must admit, that bit didn't sound much like Percy Weasley."

Harry's smile was grim as he signalled for another shot. "She got his job wrong and cleaned up his language a bit, but actually, that was him. One of the only things she got right in the entire piece of filth."

Draco blinked.

"Fucking bitch. I'll kill her if I ever get my hands on her. Selling newspapers with that kind of drivel is fine when it's dealing with grown men and women, but kids? Fuck, they haven't done _anything_ wrong."

"Any truth to it?"

"Don't be stupid," Harry snapped angrily. "If there was anything wrong with them, I would know, wouldn't I? We were honest with them – we didn't tell them details, but they know what's going on, they've been fine with it. And no, it's not a 'façade of happiness,'" he sneered. "The bitch who wrote that has no idea what Lily's like, she's not fucking well _barely twelve_ and she couldn't put on a façade if her life depended on it. Takes after her mother that way."

"Right."

"Anyway." He downed another shot. "Who wants to talk about reporters. Blasted vultures."

Draco swallowed. Harry was vibrating with anger, almost breathless, and the magic around him shimmered a bit.

And then something changed, and Draco didn't know what it was, but there was a different tinge to everything. Harry looked at him and Draco felt like an insect caught in amber, somehow arrested by this man who kept doing things that made Draco feel so... that made Draco _feel._

This man who appeared to be feeling quite a bit today, as well. The other day there had been something dark about him, possibly having to do with his wife's rumoured remarriage, but he'd still been distressingly suave and in control. Today, though...

The darkness was still there. But there wasn't much control.

And they'd both had a bit to drink. It probably didn't make that big a difference to Harry, with the amount he seemed to put away on a regular basis, but Draco was on his fourth and while he wasn't slurring, this was... this was not good.

"I'm sorry about the other day," Harry said, his voice quiet. "Not sorry that I came on to you, just sorry I came on so strong. Was feeling a bit off."

"It's all right," Draco said automatically, though it wasn't.

"Can I start again?"

"I told you, I-"

"You're married. I know. But you also don't seem terribly happy with that marriage."

Draco looked away. This was where he was supposed to say Of course I am, have you ever actually _looked_ at my wife, she's beautiful... but the words wouldn't come.

"Are you drunk?" Harry asked.

"No," Draco spoke automatically again. "No, haven't had that much."

Harry nodded. "Did you regret that, the other night? Because you seemed to enjoy it. At first."

"I... I did," Draco said. And immediately wanted to hex himself.

"Good." Harry smiled. "Would you mind if I did it again?"

They were both drunk. Or at least, impaired. "No," Draco said, and bloody hell, Harry's eyes widened slightly and he probably thought Draco meant No, he didn't mind, but that wasn't... really... what he...

Harry murmured something and Draco felt the caress of magic, probably a privacy spell, and then Harry drew closer and kissed him again, and it was like the other day, but better. Passionate. Not clinically curious; real feeling behind it. Draco pulled him closer, only identifying the groan he heard as his own after he'd made it, but too breathless to care. He carded his fingers through Harry's soft hair, his pulse hammering wildly. God, passion, sensation, intense awareness of their bodies, heat and alcohol and silk, like waking up, like feeling alive, _finally_...

Harry pulled back and smiled a bit. "Where we take this is up to you," he murmured, and what a thing to say after a kiss like that, what a thing to say when his face was flushed, his eyes bright, his whole being luminous, the way it got when he was talking about Wheezes or his children or Quidditch. What a thing to say when his body was so close to Draco's, making his heart race and making every nerve sing.

Draco hesitated, then felt himself draw closer and tentatively touch their lips together again. Harry tasted like strawberries. Some potent drink with a strawberry aftertaste, who knew what it was - and Draco's pulse quickened as Harry's lips parted and their tongues met, warm and exciting. His reservations were melting away as he pulled Harry close and kissed him, and Harry responded enthusiastically.

This is a really really really bad idea, Draco's brain tried to force itself into the foreground again while the rest of him shooed it away.

I've wanted this for so long, though, he thought. I've been doing what's right and expected and boring for so long. And I'm drunk, really, I can't be held responsible...

Drunk, my arse. You're not too drunk to forget a few important facts. You're married, he's married, he's Harry Potter, he's a complete fuckup, you're married, he's a thrill-seeker, he's famous, and, erm, in case you weren't listening the first two times, you're _married._

Shut up. He's here and we've actually become friends in the last little while and he's amazingly fit and he's doing – what the hell is he doing with his tongue? Whatever it is, it's amazing. So shut up and go away.

Draco's rational mind threw in the towel in disgust and left the building.

"Come up to my room," murmured Harry between kisses.

Draco pulled back breathlessly, trying to grasp on to his principles and self-respect with failing fingers. Because no, a room, just No. Kisses were one thing, but that was going too far. There was Asteria and responsibility and commitment and yes, love, to think about.

And there was Harry, his green eyes serious, knowing exactly what he was asking.

"I won't make you do a damn thing," Harry said softly. "I'm not responsible for your conscience. I'm going up to my room, 411, and if you don't want to join me, stay here. Or go home to your wife. You decide."

Draco nodded dumbly. Harry pushed back his stool and stood up, making his way upstairs.

Draco put his forehead on his hands, trembling, wondering what the hell he'd ever done to deserve this and heading that thought off because really, that was just asking for trouble.

He pushed his own bar stool back, stood up unsteadily, and headed home to Asteria. Took a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the Floo, calling out "Malfoy Manor!"

He stepped out of the Floo, and had to wait a moment for his head to stop spinning. Took another handful of powder as soon as it did, calling out "Leaky Cauldron" as he stepped back into the Floo.

I'm doing this, he thought numbly, and then didn't think any more as he made his way upstairs.

Harry's door opened and Harry looked out at Draco, meeting his eyes seriously.

"You're sure?"

"No," said Draco. "But I'm... I'm here."

"Good enough for me," said Harry gently. "Come in." He touched Draco's arm and Draco followed him into the room, noting the sparseness, the clean comfort of it, the little touches of home that Hannah Longbottom apparently gave her inn's rooms. Harry's children smiled from one small picture frame, his parents from another.

He drew Harry close, brought their lips together, tasting him again, surrendering and firmly ignoring the part of him that asked what the hell he was doing, what was he going to tell Asteria, what was he going to tell himself after they were done...

Because none of that was as important as his need to do this, to be where Harry seemed to live so effortlessly, this land of doing wrong, going against the rules, and _not failing at it._ Not like Draco, who had tried to cheat against Harry at Quidditch and failed, tried to be a Death Eater and failed, tried to do so many wrong things and failed, until he was too scared to do anything but keep his head down and just do whatever was expected of him, whether he liked it or not.

He wanted to be here, needed to be here, feeling urgency and a wild longing for more, a desperate yearning to just get this over with, but Harry was taking his own sweet time about it. Soothing Draco's shivers, murmuring things that sounded comforting but that Draco couldn't hear over the rush of blood. Nothing but kisses and gentle caresses, running fingers through his hair, gently pushing his face to the side so he could nip at Draco's neck. Draco gasped as Harry's fingers finally moved to his shirt buttons, undoing them, one at a time, and it was driving Draco wild because this was supposed to be grabbing on to sin and plunging into it, but instead Harry was being gentle and tender and evidently meant to prolong this.

"I'm not in any hurry," Harry finally murmured into the hollow of his neck, still steadily undoing buttons. "If you are, then please go away and come back when you're willing to do this properly."

"Why?" Draco asked, impatient and a little angry. A little scared.

"Because if this is the only time I'll get to sleep with you, I'd like to remember it. Vividly."

"This is just another one of your many new experiences, isn't it?"

Harry tilted his head to the side. "You know it is," he said evenly. "But I hope you know it's more than that as well."

Draco drew back, his belt undone and his shirt unbuttoned, and wondered how it was that Harry could stand there with his shirt hanging open and trousers and pants half-undone, and look perfectly at ease. He should've looked ridiculous, prick hanging out and cheeks flushed; instead, he was literally making Draco's mouth water. Bastard.

"What am I doing here," Draco muttered. "Merlin, what the hell am I doing here."

Not that he was actually wondering, because it was pretty fucking obvious. He was going against the rules. Just like Harry. And hoping that he could come out as unscathed as Harry.

Which he wouldn't, he knew that. Harry put a gentle hand on his shoulder, waiting patiently, and Draco closed his eyes. This had gone too far. He couldn't leave now. He didn't want to. Damn the consequences.

He turned back to Harry and gasped as Harry took his lips in a kiss, peeling away his clothes with reverent hands. Every touch whispering along his skin and drawing shivers, wild and uncontrollable, and urging him to so much more. Like rain on parched earth, clichéd but so true, his body soaking up Harry's touch with frightening gratitude and hunger. Pulling Harry closer, darkness and sweetness and dishonesty and sincerity and danger and tenderness wound together so tightly he couldn't pull the strands apart. Nothing like his real life. Nothing like anything he was used to.

And then Harry laid him down and they melted into each other, and he banished all thought of expectations and responsibilities and rules for a blessedly long time.

_**ooo000ooo**_

_**The Inquisitor, August 13th: Together Again?**_

_It's true. This paper has confirmed rumours that celebrity couple Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley have been seen together again, spotted at a Cannons-Puddlemere game last night. Witnesses say the two didn't seem to pay much attention to the game, talking together for most of the hour it lasted. Could this be a reconciliation?_

_Close family friend Cecilia Adams asserts, "They are more in love than ever before. They're together all the time. They just haven't been seen together before now."_

_"He's forgiven her," she adds. "For breaking his heart over and over again and humiliating him in public. He's just said that's all water under the bridge, and has welcomed her back with open arms."_

_But who can tell if - or when - the woman who broke Harry Potter's heart once will break it again?_

**ooo000ooo**

Don't ask. Don't. Ask. _Don't ask_.

Draco had been able to obey the voice in his head the entire time he'd been here. Meeting with Harry, for the third time, a third time that had made his heart race and his blood sing, as Harry once again became the embodiment of _everything_ that Asteria wasn't, everything Draco wanted. The last thing he wanted to do right now was screw this up by asking.

"Are the rumours true?"

Harry looked up at him questioningly, his eyes a bit unfocussed without his glasses.

"That you're getting back together with your wife?" Draco elaborated.

Harry sat up, ran a hand through his short, spiky hair, tugged on his earring. "You read the article in the _Inquisitor_, I take it." Draco stared at him impassively. "It wasn't even a new article," Harry said calmly. "We weren't at that game. One of the kids said they remembered an article that was almost word for word the same, printed last autumn. I think the new reporter for that column had to fill the slot with whatever she could find; apparently the old writer's at St. Mungo's Intestinal Curses Wing."

"Is it true?"

"That we're getting back together?"

Draco nodded, turning away as Harry opened his mouth, then closed it, hesitating.

"Well. That's marvellous." He got up, grabbing his trousers. "And good luck with that. I'll be going, now."

"Wait, don't go-" Harry reached out for him, and Draco shrugged his hand off his arm.

"No. This is... this is wrong. Even if you're not going back to your wife, I have a responsibility to mine. And to my son. I can't do this."

"Does that responsibility make you happy?" Harry asked quietly.

"That's not the point. It doesn't make me _un_happy. I'm not miserable, I don't hate my wife, I'm not trapped in a..." _loveless marriage._

No, not loveless. Pointless, maybe.

"But you're not happy with your life. Would you spend so much time in pubs if you were? When was the last time you actually talked to her?"

"That doesn't matter," said Draco. Never, his mind supplied helpfully.

"You're still young. You don't have to go through life like this, married to somebody you don't know, doing a job that doesn't mean anything. You're yawning through your life."

"I'm doing what I'm supposed to do," he said tightly, pulling on his shirt.

Harry got out of bed, approached him cautiously. "It doesn't have to be like that, Draco. You know that. You can work out who you are, and what you're meant to be or do. Make a journey of it."

"You might be able to do that and end up still married to the same wonderful woman who's your soulmate. I can't."

"Still? You mean you're married to a wonderful woman who's your soulmate?"

"She's a good woman. She does her duties well."

"That sounds about as exciting and life-affirming as watching Flobberworms grow."

"We can't all live charmed lives," Draco said bitterly. He sat back down on the bed, putting on his socks and shoes, wondering how Harry could remain nude while he got fully dressed and still look so much more at ease than Draco felt.

"You think my life is charmed?"

"Your wife cheerfully let you go gallivanting around the world, sowing your wild oats-"

"You don't know her terribly well," Harry said evenly. "There was nothing cheerful about how we got here. It was painful and ugly and I didn't know how our friendship would survive, let alone our marriage."

"And yet they both did."

"Yeah, they did. Or at least, they have so far."

"So, you've had your little flings. You discovered that although you like cock, you love your wife more. Your wife, lucky for you, decided the same thing, because life worships you like some sick little groupie. You're now back with her and your perfect little family, and-"

"It's not that simple, it hasn't been without cost, and we haven't decided completely," Harry said quietly. "And what about you? What about your perfect little family?"

Draco looked away.

"Draco, stay with me," Harry said suddenly. "Or at least, don't go back to your wife. She doesn't make you happy and you don't make her happy. Come on, don't do this to yourself. You've only got one life, Draco. Don't live it like this."

"Piss off," Draco said, angry now. He stood up, glaring down at Harry. "You have no idea what makes my wife happy. You and your wife... you two have no idea. You have no idea what the real world is like, you have no idea what living up to your responsibilities is like, what real commitment means, you-"

"Don't we?" Harry glared back at him. "Commitment means waiting for somebody for a bloody year while he's off doing God knows what and you don't know if he'll ever come back. Commitment means waiting while the one you love is out training or playing everywhere but home, and the only times you see her are when her team's home for a day or so, and you're a very junior Auror and you get put on duty whenever, so you miss half her visits home. Commitment means raising three kids together and loving them and staying together through a lot of shit you know nothing about. Commitment means trying to be honest with each other, and with our kids, even if it means we might get hurt."

He paused, breathing hard.

"Commitment doesn't have to mean staying with that person forever," he said more calmly. "Not if the marriage isn't working any more. That's what we've been trying to work out."

"But you want to go back to her," Draco said.

"I want to go back to her _if it works for both of us._ I want it to be good again. I want to feel like we both want to be there – not that we're still there out of inertia."

Inertia.

"Were you ever in love with Asteria?"

"She's the best mother Scorpius could've ever had. She's been good for both of us - for my whole family."

"You haven't answered my question."

"You don't understand what it was like for us after the war," Draco said angrily, glaring at Harry. "My father may have managed to keep us all out of Azkaban, and you and Granger and Weasley spoke on my behalf, but nobody wanted to have anything to do with us. We went from being powerful and respected to being social pariahs. And it didn't matter how much money my father donated to the right causes; we were _nothing._" He took a deep breath. "Asteria changed all of that. She was from a good family, almost all of them Slytherins, but she was cheerful and friendly and didn't have a Slytherin bone in her body. People loved her. They invited her to all sorts of places they would never have invited us, mostly out of pity for her because she'd been forced into this terrible marriage. She got us back into places nobody else would've allowed us to go."

"And you're grateful to her for that."

"Of course I am."

"And that's enough for you, is it?"

"It has to be."

"No it doesn't. You're not happy. You're bored. Leave. Be true to yourself."

"Asteria deserves more from me than that."

"What about what _you_ deserve?"

"I..." Draco stopped, unable to meet Harry's eyes any more, unable to stand the pity on his face.

"And what about Asteria?" Harry asked quietly. "D'you think maybe she deserves a marriage that's based on more than gratitude?"

Draco swallowed hard. "She deserves my respect. She deserves to not have her life turned upside down because I-"

"Does she make you happy?"

Yes, of course she does, Draco started to say, but "Why should that matter?" came out instead.

"Do you want to leave her?"

Draco blew out his breath, closed his eyes. "Yes," he finally said quietly, and it felt like losing, giving in to a pull he'd fought for so long, and he didn't even know when he'd started to fight it. "But-"

"Doesn't that say something to you?"

"It says this is wrong, Harry!"

"Don't you think it says something about your marriage, that you want to do this anyway?"

"No." He turned away. "It says something about you, that you're willing to put somebody else's marriage in jeopardy just to satisfy your curiosity, or for cheap thrills-"

"It's not just curiosity and it's not a cheap thrill."

"Really," Draco said snidely.

"I've thought you were attractive for a very long time, Draco."

Draco lifted an eyebrow. "That's truly uplifting. My wife adores me. You... have thought I was attractive for a very long time."

"I think there could be something here," Potter said quietly, and Draco forced himself to not even try to read anything into the intensity of his gaze.

"And you're pushing me to gamble on my marriage to see what that is? Not all of us have wise and understanding spouses waiting for us to come back from exploring, you know."

"I don't honestly know if I do want to come back to Ginny," Harry said bluntly. "And she doesn't know if she wants to come back to me."

"I don't want to lose what I have."

"Draco, you can't live a life that's only half there. She may be wonderful but she's not _it_ for you. My God, Ginny's intelligent, has a great sense of humour, strong - she's a lot of things Asteria isn't. And I still don't want to be with her if being with her is just... settling."

"You don't understand family," Draco sneered. "You only understand your own selfishness."

Harry stepped back. "You know, you're right. This isn't fair to you. I've wanted to get to know you better for a very, very long time. I've wanted to - and I don't care if that puts what I've got with Ginny in danger, because our friendship will survive, whatever happens, and that's the most important thing to me. But you're not the same, and I'm being selfish, and I'll leave you now."

He quickly pulled on his clothing and turned to go, pausing at the door. "If you change your mind, let me know," he said, and walked out.

_**ooo000ooo**_

_**The Daily Prophet, August 22nd: His Own Name**_

_It seems Albus Potter is finding fame of his own, although he credits his famous father for helping him to reach for it. "It's not that he pushed me; it's just that he's not afraid of taking chances. He made me see that I didn't have to be afraid of trying for something I really wanted."_

_And what is it he really wants?_

_"I took up singing for a while, I've got a pretty good voice, but it's nothing special and I realised I'm not actually that interested in music. It's more acting that I'm curious about. So I tried out for the Avon Wizarding Theatre's programme this summer, and I had a great time."_

_Not only that, but the young man had an extremely warm reception by audiences at the summer's end performance. His portrayal of Macbeth in_ Double Double Toil and Trouble _was hailed as 'striking' and 'richly textured' by critics._

_"It was brilliant, being up there onstage. Really, really cool. I'm really hoping to get into the Apprentice Programme next year, after I leave Hogwarts."_

_And what about favouritism? Isn't he worried that people will say he only got in because of his name?_

_Potter smiles. "They're blind auditions. The judges don't know your name or anything about you. They started doing it that way after the Second Voldemort Rising, so that nobody could accuse them of discriminating against Muggleborns. But it's been good for all kinds of people, that they're given a fair chance to try out."_

_And what about his dashing - and eerily familiar - good looks?_

_"Well, thanks for that," the young Potter says, laughing. "I do look a bit like my dad, I know. I'll take Polyjuice before the audition. Polyjuice is like a traditional drink in our family," he says seriously. "And it's used a lot in acting, so I may as well get used to it, yeah?"_

**ooo000ooo**

It was a foggy day and the steam from the Express was dense, making it exceedingly difficult to see a bloody thing. Draco and Scorpius had been able to get his things onto the train mostly by instinct and memory, and had been lucky to find their way back to Asteria. And now she was giving their son some last-minute advice, her lovely blue eyes a bit reddish as they prepared to lose him for yet another year. His last. So little time left, so few years before he became an adult and probably moved out for good, and they had to miss ten more months of his childhood.

Draco tapped his foot, not particularly wanting to prolong their goodbyes. The end of the school year at King's Cross was mostly a joyous time; parents getting their children back, younger children overjoyed to see their families again, older children a bit sad at parting from their friends, but looking forward to no school for a few weeks. The beginning of the school year was exciting too, but there were often tears as well, and many parents looked quite lost after the train pulled out. It should be easier, the older they got. It wasn't.

Scorpius finished nodding at his mother, gave her a hug, and turned to Draco.

"See you at Christmas, then, Scorpius," Draco said, and shook his hand. Scorpius grinned and turned away, running to the Express as the whistle blew.

"Al! Wait up!" he shouted, catching up to Albus Potter and a few other boys Draco didn't recognise. He jumped on board, quickly appearing at one of the windows and leaning out to wave at Draco and Asteria. The steam and fog were thicker now, almost instantly hiding the train as it sped up, taking Scorpius and all the others away.

Asteria sniffled quietly, brushing her eyes. Draco turned to leave, looking back as Asteria made a soft sound of distress.

"What is it?"

"My purse, I can't find it," she said, peering at the ground. Draco sighed, hoping the steam would clear up a bit, because right now the chances of finding Asteria's small silver purse were slim at best.

"Does it still have that faulty security charm on it?" he asked her, and she nodded. "So much for Summoning it, then?"

She nodded again, peering through the fog. And as the crowd thinned and the fog did the same, Draco heard familiar voices close by. Through a disappearing tendril of steam he caught sight of Ginny Weasley, hugging Harry close, and quickly schooled his own face into impassivity.

"He'll be all right," Ginny was saying.

"As long as he remembers to study for NEWTs and doesn't spend all his time on this acting business."

Ginny laughed. "This acting business that you inspired him to pursue."

"Don't remind me."

"How did it go?" She smirked at Harry. "_He made me see that I didn't have to be afraid of trying for something I really wanted._"

Harry sighed. "You know, he quoted that bit enough at me. Not sure I want to hear it from you too."

Ginny laughed. "You know we only say it because we love you."

"Lucky, lucky me. Bloody well too much love, I'd say," said Harry, and Draco fought to keep his breakfast down. Merlin, that was low. Though it probably wouldn't occur to Harry that it was a little insensitive to say something like that near his ex-... whatever they had been.

"I do love you, you know. You're the best friend I could've ever wanted," Ginny said, laying her head on Harry's shoulder.

"You too," he chuckled.

Oh for the ability to hex him with slugs, though Draco bitterly. Or perhaps he should look up Molly Weasley's impotence curse.

"Too bad you're such a dismal husband," said Ginny, and Harry laughed, and Draco realised with a slight shock that Harry probably hadn't seen Draco yet. He wasn't being insensitive. For once.

"You'd think it would get easier to see them go every year," Ginny said, gazing where the train had gone. "But in some ways it's harder, isn't it?"

He brushed her hair off her forehead and kissed her. "Yeah," he said softly.

"C'mon, mate, stop molesting our sister and let's go," said Ron Weasley.

"Yeah," said another Weasley brother, Draco had no idea which one. "No molesting till you've made an honest woman of her again."

"Oi," said Harry, "she's the one who won't _let_ me, not yet. I'm the scorned one here, remember?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "We gave ourselves two more years, there's no rush. And I'm sorry, Harry, I'll need a bit of time to decide if I want to go back to putting up with your fondness for cock again. Don't much care for Polyjuice being part of our sex life, you know?"

Ron tripped and one of the other Weasleys choked.

"Merlin's y-fronts, I'm joking!" Ginny said, laughing.

Two more years. Two more years for Harry to decide the shape of his foreseeable future. Draco's gaze rested on Asteria, her blue eyes clear and guileless. As lovely as a cloudless sky, and every bit as empty. Kind, and sweet, and as exciting as watching Flobberworms grow.

"Oh, Draco, I found it!" Asteria said happily picking up her purse, and Harry looked back, startled to see Draco so close.

Draco nodded at Harry and his family stiffly, then looked away again. Not sure how to read the complex expression in Harry's eyes. Glanced at the guards as they nodded at the families, letting them pass through the magical barrier in pairs and groups of three.

Harry passed through the barrier with his family.

Harry was still on his journey, finding himself. He'd found a job he liked, would probably find his way back to his wife, his own happily ever after, plus or minus a wrinkle or two. Find his way, leaving Draco feeling run over by his journey.

_She doesn't make you happy..._

_It doesn't have to be like that, Draco..._

_What about what you deserve?_

_I think there could be something here..._

_If you change your mind, let me know..._

_Make a journey of it._

He swallowed hard. There was really only one choice to make. At the end of the day, _he_ was the one who had to live with the consequences of his actions. And not just the consequences for the people around him, but the consequences for himself as well.

He took Asteria's hand in his gently, looking away guiltily from her surprised, pleased expression, and took a deep breath as he led her through the barrier and they headed for home.

**- End.**

**ooo000ooo**

**Post-Author Note 1:** Thanks also to Owensmom for the Epidemic of Weasleys, and the title :)

**Post-Author Note 2:** So, yeah, like I said, not everybody liked this; mostly because of the ending, but for a bunch of other reasons as well. Which was cool - the comments at the fest provided lots of food for thought. I even wrote a self-indulgent little Author's Commentary thingy on it, believe it or not :) It's on the next page.


	3. NOT another chapter

**IMPORTANT NOTE:** _THIS IS **NOT** ANOTHER CHAPTER IN THE STORY_. Just something I meant to upload at the same time as I posted the story, and realized this week that I sorta never did. Doh :(

**Preface:** I ended up writing this because of the stunning reaction I got for this story. It was part of a fest, posted on the first day of the fest. The response, from those who hated it, and from those who hated the ones who hated it, and those who hated the ones who hated the ones who hated it (rinse, lather, repeat), went spiraling all the way to fandomwank and beyond. It wasn't the only hotly debated story of the fest by any means, but it appeared to have lit a spark that made the fest go all splodey.

After all the dust had cleared, I posted this on my lj. It's strictly navel-gazing, like a director's commentary on a DVD. If you didn't care one way or the other for the story, please feel free to skip ;)

**ooo000ooo**

So, yeah, Riptide. Which I wrote.

Has got to be the most responded-to thing I've ever written, at least on a per-word basis. Bond got more comments, but it's a monster and has been up for years now, so it doesn't count. I started writing down my thoughts after some of the comments Riptide got and it kinda... grew. ::blinks in dismay:: And kept growing. And by now, OMG it even needs a Table of Contents ::facepalm:: Read only the parts that interest you :)

1. Commenting on Comments

2. Why the ending? AKA: I'm an idiot

3. Harry: Whaddup?

4. Draco

5. No, really, why the ending?

6. So who's the Fool?

7. Specific comments

8. And the moral of the story is

**1. Commenting on Comments**

Yes, I'm talking in part about the negative comments. This is definitely the piece I've written that's received the most wholly & partly negative feedback. To say it's been a learning experience is like calling the Mississippi a "little creek" ;)

Now, just so's you know, my approach to negative comments (not that I'd had many before this fic) is as follows. I generally divvy them up into three categories:

1) The ones where I realize the reader got it right and I got it wrong. What they read was not what I meant to say, but it is, in fact, what I did say. ::headdesks:: result from these comments.

2) The ones where I disagree with the reader, shrug and think Que será, será, and vive la différence. They saw something I didn't put in there. Not my fault or theirs, just two people making different interpretations of the same text. These comments produce thoughtful "Hmmmm..." sounds.

3) The ones where I disagree, and I'm right, damnit. To be eye-rolled at, and possibly shared with friends.

I tend to put most negative comments in categories one and two. Sometimes people see something I didn't intend to put in there, but I figure, if they saw it, there's a reason for that. Sometimes the reason is that they were skimming and not reading carefully, and missed a few subtle cues. Which may look like their problem, not mine, but the fact is that if I'm writing for a general public, I should keep in mind that many people do skim. Not that I have to make things blindingly obvious; maybe I don't particularly care to cater to skimmers. But I should at least be aware of skimming, and keep in mind that, if I go too subtle, I will lose some people.

A category three comment would be one where, for example, someone was disgusted with Riptide because of the nauseating mutual Narcissa/Draco lust running through it. Um, you know what? Your issues, not mine. Get help. Please.

- nobody said that, BTW. I made it up. But that's the kind of negative response that would make me respond with a heartfelt pffffft.

There weren't many of those among the negative comments for Riptide. In fact, I can only remember one off the top of my head. Most of them were thought-provoking, and in a way, really pretty cool :)

**2. Why the ending? AKA: I'm an idiot**

First off, I was amazed and amused by the reaction my story got, and how many comments had to do with the ending. I have to be honest; part of why it ended the way it did was that I was completely out to lunch and somehow _totally_ missed the whole "The Fool is the first prompt that will be posted" thing. I did not choose the prompt; the prompt chose me, because I was buried in RL and computer woes while my team was claiming prompts, and by the time I surfaced, The Fool was one of the only ones left, so I got it. I was bewildered as to why nobody had chosen it; it seemed so totally cool to me. So many possibilities, for both the Rightside Up and Ill-Dignified meanings. Wheee!

Went to work on the thing. Decided pretty much from the beginning that I wanted to have a semi-ambiguous ending, even though I knew that might piss some readers off, because I figured most of the stories would end with H & D together (duh, it is an H/D fest) and I wanted to do something different. I'd never written ambiguous before, and I wanted to leave it up to the readers to decide what Draco would do next. I purposely left it leaning heavily towards one decision (the one most people jumped to, the one I believe would be realistic) but I also wanted there to be the possibility of H/D down the road if you tilted your head and squinted a bit.

So why am I saying the ending the way it was due to me being an idiot?

Because had I realized _before sending it in to the mods_ that mine would be the first fic posted, I would've given it a happy H/D ending. I am not brave enough to risk pissing readers off from the get-go of a fest. I would've either chosen a different prompt, in order to feel OK with ambivalence/not-necessarily H/D 4evah, or I would've finished Riptide happily and just hoped that someone else on my team would risk the Sad.

I'm glad I didn't know. I'm glad I wrote the ending I did. I've never had a fic cause a stir like that. Many people said unkind things about something that I wrote, and you know what? The world didn't end. I learned from the experience, and grew as a writer, and would do it again in a heartbeat :)

**3. Harry: Whaddup?**

A lot of the comments said that my Harry wasn't terribly sympathetic, which is fair. He's not really supposed to be; this is primarily Draco's story, not Harry's. However, I wasn't intending to write him as totally unsympathetic either. And while I think a lot of the lack of sympathy was because of how I wrote him, I also think some of the reactions came from the way the readers interpreted him, and not necessarily from how I wrote him.

This next part is going to sound like I'm arguing with how people read Harry in this story, but I'm not. Like I said, as a general rule, I figure if you read something into my story that I didn't intend to put in there, what you read _isn't wrong_. (Um, unless you read that Ginny was secretly lusting for Draco the whole time.) I may not have intended to say something you saw (eg Harry has become an alcoholic) but if you saw it there, there's probably a good reason for it.

Also, a lot of what I'm going to say isn't stuff that I was really hoping to get across to readers and failed to do. When it comes to how Harry's feeling and dealing with everything, I had a backstory, but tried to keep strictly to Draco's POV. And as Draco _doesn't know what's going on with Harry_, there's no reason the readers should be able to figure it out either. Hell, _I_ don't even know what's going on with Harry. I have my ideas, and they influenced how I wrote him, but you may have read the words and come to a totally different conclusion and we could both be right.

So here's my backstory on Harry. Remember, this is my take only. Your take was different? You're probably right too :)

Once upon a time, Harry and Ginny were (mostly) happily married, had kids, careers, happily ever after, the family he always wanted, and All Was Well. Then their kids went to school. All of a sudden they found themselves spending a lot of time together in an empty house (seriously, that's the most messed up part of JKR's world for me - how the hell do you just cheerfully bundle off your kids for the last third of their childhoods? ::boggle::). And they started to realize a few things. Like, for example, they'd been together since they were children. They had never really dated other people seriously; one wet kiss and disastrous date, and two boys dropped for stupid reasons, do not 'relationships' make. They had never really thought of anybody else seriously.

So here they are, the kids are all gone, and Ginny's thinking, I've loved this guy my entire life... or have I? Did I just fall for him because of the stories my family told? And because he was my brother's best friend, and everybody's hero?

Harry's thinking, I've been with her forever... was I attracted to her, or to the fact that she represented family to me? I would figure he would also wonder if the "girl" thing was really his thing after all; he would've wondered about other guys once in a while, maybe even told Ginny about it, and maybe wondered if he would've been happier with another man. There's a reason, I think, that Half-Blood Prince contained the line, "The battle waged on: Ginny or Ron?" (Yes, I'm a closet HP/RW fan.) It wouldn't surprise me if Ginny sensed something like this. Maybe he even told her about it.

In my mind, Ginny cracked first. Harry says something like that, that she's the one who suggested they break up and he had some difficulty with it. ("Had this sort of... chest-monster thing going, actually.")

After much hearbreak and arguing and ugliness (which Harry breezes off as "It was painful and ugly... yadda yadda") they decide on their current arrangement.

They split. And it's liberating and life-affirming and everything they hoped it would be, and they're both having fun, doing the dumb things they never really got a chance to do, what with fearing Death By Megalomaniac and being tortured and the whole war thing. Harry's so damn happy, in fact, that he spends a great deal of his time getting tanked. He's just _that thrilled_ to be free.

Back up a bit.

OK, no. Harry _is_ happy. It _is_ working. It _was_ the right thing to do, for both of them as individuals and as a couple. But as Harry said, it's come at a price, and I think it's a heavier price than he likes to admit to himself. He's been jealous, he's been lonely and insecure, he's wondered if they've fucked up their lives, and he's dealt with that by drinking a bit too much. Not necessarily descending into pathological alcoholism to deal with the misery of his life, not at all - just, you know, sanding off the edges once in a while. A little too often.

Into all of this comes Draco. And Harry genuinely doesn't want to get in his pants at first. He used to find Draco interesting and probably subconciously also found him attractive, even when he hated him, but hasn't known or cared much about his doings since the war. Draco Malfoy = Big Nothing in Harry's life. Even when he starts bumping into him on a semi-regular basis.

Yadda yadda, they end up spending a bit of time together. Harry shares what's going on in his life, because it's interesting and out there anyway, and he's just not that bothered about his privacy any more. Remember; he's past forty, has been Head Auror for a long time, and he's used to much worse than the kind of negative publicity he's being subjected to right now. Anyway, in the process of sharing he notes that Draco is somewhat... blah. No adventures, no glowing stories about his wife or son or career, nothing. Not the Draco Harry knew back at school at all. He's intrigued.

Intrigued eventually becomes attracted. Partly because of their history, partly because Draco's attractive, partly because Draco seems to be sleepwalking through his life. Harry feels compassion for him, and as a friend he wants to help out, make Draco think about his life. I think at first he's really not trying to get him into bed; it's more of a "Bloody hell, at least think about it: do you love your wife, or do you want to explore?" And at some point another part is added on: "Oh and by the way if you want to explore, hey! I do too!"

Eventually he's pretty sure that Draco does not, in fact, love his wife. That he does want to explore. And that's a good thing, thinks Harry, because exploring is a good thing and if it's working for Harry (give or take a few drinks too many) _surely_ it should work for Draco! And while we're at it, it should work for Asteria too! Hey, everybody wins!

Ah, no.

(BTW, one reader was upset that Harry was telling Draco all about his life just to get in his pants, and that review bugged me because I didn't mean to make it sound like that at all. In my mind, Harry was probably talking because by now he was used to his life being an open book, and didn't particularly care any more. It was only later, around the middle of the story, that he had the slightest interest in getting into Draco's pants. But that's what this reader saw, and it was a valid conclusion to draw. One that I really didn't intend to put in there. Category #1 review = ::facepalm::)

Anyway, personally I don't think Harry's trying to be a bastard at all. I think he's doing his best to really _live_ his life, and I think he genuinely believes that what he's doing is best for himself and Ginny and their kids, and genuinely believes that Draco's life needs a shake-up too. And I think Harry's willingness to put Draco's marriage in jeopardy isn't malice or selfishness, it's simple blindness. Harry's never been great at being able to understand other people. Hopefully he's improved over the years, but I can't see it ever being his forte.

Also, a lot of Harry's actions towards Draco are also due to him acting on some of his own insecurities. The first time he comes on the Draco is when the paper has reported something that's actually true for once: Ginny is contemplating remarriage. That can't feel good. Harry's beyond conflicted, he needs to do something to get his mind off the fact that "freedom to explore" does, in fact, mean freedom to ditch, and he pushes Draco and messes up.

The second time he pursues Draco he's feeling even more messed up. The paper has said nasty things about his kids, and although he tells himself it's all complete crap... his _kids_ are in the papers. Even if they were all supremely happy with their lives, his oldest son has been portrayed as an unstable alcoholic and complete academic failure, his little girl as a troublemaking slut, his middle son as a plucky young man desperately trying to make up for the crap his life has turned into because of his parents... and it's _his fault_.

And to make things worse, if Harry has any kind of insight at all (which I'm assuming he does), he knows that the papers, while prone to exaggeration and fabrication, do report the truth sometimes. Maybe he suspects that some of what's in there is true. Maybe he knows some of it is; maybe James' marks were indeed suffering, maybe Lily has been getting into trouble, maybe they have shown, on holidays or in their letters, that they are not in fact supremely happy with the choices their parents are making.

Now, I'm assuming the kids are mostly OK with things. Their parents have been honest with them, they obviously still love each other and, more importantly, still adore their children. But the kids can't be getting through this completely unscathed. They're bound to worry. They're bound to feel sad sometimes. They may think a lot of the newspaper stories are funny, but it's got to get to them sometimes, seeing their beloved parents portrayed as out of control, erratic, etc. And just as their friends aren't pleased at seeing themselves in print, their kids probably are not going to be thrilled at what the papers have to say about them either.

As Harry says at one point, "It hasn't been without cost."

Into all of this Harry's got Draco, a man he sees sleepwalking through life and who he finds attractive and interesting. Kids are getting hurt, wife may be walking out for good, but hey, here's someone I like and could really have something special with - not just a one-nighter, but something more. And he's not happy with his life either! Excellent.

It's only near the end that Harry finally realizes that what he's doing isn't fair to Draco. That maybe Draco really can't walk away from his marriage as easily as Harry has. And considering that walking away hasn't exactly been a walk in the park for Harry, it hits him, _finally_ - because Harry's a bit thick sometimes - that it might be even harder for Draco, and that he's being a selfish prick by pressuring him.

So, that's Harry as I see him.

It bears repeating here that if you read him and got a different impression of him, that's perfectly valid. We only see him through the papers (biased) and Draco's eyes (also biased). I knew what I was thinking about him, but just about any interpretation of him is fair.

Um, unless you're thinking he actually only really wanted to be a woman all along. Then I think we'd have to have a chat.

**4. Draco**

Now, for Draco, I _was_ trying to get into his mind, a lot more than for Harry, and might've been upset at bad reviews or misunderstandings concerning him. Not because the readers read it 'wrong' (unless, you know, they got the impression all he'd ever wanted out of life was to become a ballerina) but because I might have failed to write him well enough to get across what I wanted to get across. There was some wiggle room for him, but not nearly to the extent that there was for Harry.

Happily, I don't think there were any bad reviews about him. Not what _I_ consider bad reviews, anyway :)

Which is not to say everyone loved him. In fact, one of the first people to comment said that they didn't like how he was such a minor character here, and that they hated how JKR had married him off to a minor character's younger sibling because that just didn't go with the Major Character he was in early books, and I was writing him the same way.

For the record? That review made me both wince and cheer. Because I _loathe_ the way JKR wrote him in Deathly Hallows. After the depth and texture she gave to him in HBP, to have him barely make any appearances in DH, and to make his appearances so bleh, was really sad, IMHO.

I don't think less of JKR for this; I think it totally made sense and fit with the character as she'd written him. He had always relied on his family connections to make himself feel big, but in HBP he got a taste for what happened when those family connections weren't exactly an asset. His dad was locked up, he was shunned by Slughorn, he was targetted by Voldemort into doing something impossible... and he reacted beautifully, IMHO. False bravado and scorn and a need to prove himself and protect his family, and growing uncertainty and fear and desperation. _GOD_, I loved him in HBP.

And unfortunately, he reacted true to himself in DH. After all, he'd failed in HBP. His family was totally ineffective. His powerful father was a wandless shell of himself, they had to host lunatics in their home, and then he had to go back to school with _more_ lunatics. Seeing him so scared and diminished was painful, but realistic, I think. And I loved the little tidbits JKR threw us - that he refused to identify schoolmates he'd spent six years with, that he refused to let go of Goyle in a burning room, that he still asked about Crabbe, even after Crabbe defied him and then almost killed them all - all of that.

Still. Overall, I hated what had happened to him. Found it logical, but hated it. Hated the nameless wife and the receding hairline too ::stabbity::

And that's exactly how I decided to write him. He had tried to do all sorts of big things, and they had all failed. He ended the war alive, but on the losing side. His family stayed out of prison, but I couldn't see them ever regaining their lost position in the wizarding world. I think he really would just crumble and put his head down and do what was expected, whether he wanted to or not.

So there he is, trudging through life. Harry can see that very clearly at least, even if he misses a few other very important aspects of Draco's life. He's not unhappy, per se; he's made the best of things, and doesn't really expect much more. He's got a good job, a lovely and caring wife, an intelligent son. He's OK with that. So OK that he spends a lot of time in pubs rather than going home to his lovely, empty-headed wife.

OK, so maybe this is not a terribly happy man.

Then he sees Harry. Who appears to be falling apart, which both amuses and disturbs him. And then intrigues him, because of the many things about Harry that don't seem to add up. The papers say one thing, but Harry's actions say something else. Slowly Draco starts to wonder whether Harry's life is really so bad, and whether his own is so good. And after Harry finally fills him in on things - the break-up is mutual, his life is hardly in the toilet, this self-discovery thing really is pretty cool - he really starts to wonder. Here's Harry, whose life pre-"breakdown" made Draco's pale by comparison. And Harry didn't even think _that_ was good enough. Harry's reached out for more. Draco desperately wants to do the same thing.

At the same time, Draco's no idiot. He knows that what he's got may not be stellar, but it's nothing to sneeze at either, and he knows damn well that if he tries for what Harry's reaching for he will almost certainly fail, miserably - again - and lose everything. Harry's still got his family and kids and even a lot of society on his side. And the nasty parts that come with his actions (negative stories, possible fallout on kids/friends, etc) don't seem to bother him that much. Harry has to tell Draco that it was painful getting to where he is, and that it hasn't been without cost; Draco can't see that for himself. He's not even sure he believes it. He does know that he wants what Harry's got, but also knows he almost certainly can't have it.

He goes for it anyway. Because he's drawn to the life Harry's living, and drawn to Harry, and wants to feel alive again.

He comes to his senses eventually. He's not proud of what he's done, feels like crap for risking what he's got, knows that however much he wants to continue, his wants are not the only thing that's important.

So he's back at square one, except that now he's also feeling like crap about having cheated on his wife.

Except, not quite.

**5. No, really, why the ending?**

What I wanted to show, in the end, was a bit of hope. I wanted to show that Draco was still angry and confused and wishing he could have a real relationship with Harry, but that despite himself he had learned from the experience. That maybe he would at least examine his life and not sleepwalk through it.

_She doesn't make you happy..._

_It doesn't have to be like that, Draco..._

_What about what you deserve?_

_I think there could be something here..._

_If you change your mind, let me know..._

_Make a journey of it._

The quotes I have at the end are all things that Harry has said to him, and they all have meaning for Draco. They may not have, when they were spoken, but Draco remembers them, and what I hope is that he can mull them over, and maybe even do something about them someday.

So what does he decide?

I think there's two possibilities.

(a) He decides that Harry was right after all. Harry did say that he would be willing to risk what he had with Ginny to pursue something with Draco. And now he's heard that Ginny isn't exactly jumping to get back with Harry. And Draco has just heard the two of them talking together, like friends, and it's so far away from what he and Asteria have that there's just no comparison. So Draco takes Asteria home, feeling guilty because he knows he's either going to have to have a long talk with her (after he talks to Harry and sees what that situation is all about - can't see him jumping to talk to Asteria ASAP, especially after hearing that Harry seems to want to go back to Ginny) and set up an open marriage, or just start cheating on her.

My money's on a combination: he'll go back to seeing Harry, and if it gets more serious, be honest with Asteria. He feels like crap about this, but he's realized that he can't live his whole life for others. He might even be thinking that maybe Harry's got a point and Asteria deserves a marriage that's based on more than just gratitude. So, if Harry's still up for it, he and Harry will get together, and see what happens. It'll be a journey.

And when he takes Asteria's hand guiltily, he does so because she's looking pleased, and he realises that (a) she's pleased because he's hardly ever affectionate to her and (b) he's about to make things even worse.

(b) He decides Harry was right after all and he needs to get on with his life. He's treated Asteria like shit, whether she knows it or not, and he feels guilty about that. Contrary to the choices Harry's made, he decides to honour his commitment to Asteria. She's his wife, and she loves him, and he does love her in his own way. Avoiding her has been the easy but stupid thing to do. She doesn't make him happy; but maybe she could.

And when he takes Asteria's hand guiltily, he does so because she's looking pleased, and he realises that (a) she's pleased because he's hardly ever affectionate to her and (b) he doesn't know if he can really do anything about it. But maybe now at least he might be willing to try. And that might be a journey too.

Personally, I go with option (b). I think (a) is possible, but not as likely as (b). Although one thing that's both amused me and made me go hmmm has been that almost everybody thought that not only that would Draco stay with Asteria, but that that particular ending was obvious.

I dunno, maybe I'm more of a cock-eyed optimist than most people; I could really see (a) happening as well.

Oh and it bears repeating here as well: if you felt there was no ambiguity, or if you felt (b) was obvious but only saw it as sad, not hopeful at all, and missed/misinterpreted Draco's taking of Asteria's hand at the end? You're not wrong. Depending on why you thought any of that I may be ::headdesk::ing myself or thinking Vive la différence, but _you're not wrong_.

**6. So who's the Fool?**

Well it's a rhetorical question, doncha know ;)

I will say this, though:

From June Kaminski, BellaOnline's Tarot Editor:

_The __**Upright Fool**__ card represents a new beginning, a fresh start in any aspect of our life. When this card is drawn, we are faced with important choices and decisions which need to be made as we begin this new life-cycle and to deal with any difficult challenges along the way. The Fool tells us to face these challenges with energy, optimism and faith, which will ensure a positive outcome. It also points out that we must develop faith in our abilities to make the right choices, to keep the faith, and to walk our own unique path with optimism and hope. _

_The __**Reversed Fool**__ card gives us a clear warning that we must resist the temptation to act recklessly or immaturely in any new situation. We must accept our responsibilities and commitments and honor them wholely. Due consideration is required - problems and indiscretions resulting from impatience or impulsiveness are indicated. It also shows inhibitions that are caused by mental, emotional and physical restraints and tensions. We are burdened with a sense of obligation towards society and our daily duties._

And from Aeclectic Tarot

_**Description:**__ The fool in colorful motley clothes, pack tied to a staff, a small dog, a cliff. _

_... the Fool represents a time of newness, a time when life has been "re-started" as it were. The person feels that they are back at Zero, whether that be in romantic affairs, or career, at their job or intellectual persuits. Far from being sad or frustrating, the Querent feels remarkably *free*, light hearted and refreshed, as if being given a second chance. They feel young and energized. _

_In addition, they likely have no idea where they're going or what they're going to do. But that doesn't matter. For the Fool, the most important thing is to just go out and enjoy the world. To see what there is to see and delight in all of it. _

_Unfortunately, in this childlike state the person is likely to be overly optimistic or naive. A Fool can be a Fool. This is the card likely to turn up ... when the Querent is sure that it's "love this time!" ... they're so busy daydreaming of what might be that they're ignoring what is. They're about to fall right off a cliff. Time for them to listen to that watchful little dog, which might be a concerned friend, a wise tarot reader, or just their instincts._

**7. Specific comments**

(a) I got a few comments criticizing my portrayal of Ginny and the other Weasleys as being "all right" with all the crap Harry was pulling. Something like, why would Ginny be OK with all of this? It wasn't what she'd signed up for, after all. Someone else (or maybe the same person) said Riptide was terribly unrealistic because the Weasleys weren't the type of people to be all cheerful about Harry screwing around on their daughter/baby sister.

I gotta say, those comments made me blink a bit. In part because I thought I'd made it pretty clear that the whole thing was mostly Ginny's idea in the first place. To put it childishly, she started it. And at the end, she was the one who wasn't exactly eager to end their lovely philandering journeys.

And as for the Weasleys all being perfectly happy about it... again, I wasn't sure how to respond because I'm not sure I wrote them perfectly happy. Granted, there was no reference to Harry being in fear of his life from Ginny's five older brothers. But other than that...

OK, George gives Harry a job, Ron is with him for one drunken excursion that we know of, and one of them makes a joking remark along the lines of Harry not being allowed to molest their sister till he makes an honest woman of her again. I'm not sure this is the same as "being OK with" the behaviour. Especially as they (and close friends like Neville and Lee) keep ending up in the papers rather unflatteringly. In fact, one paper speculates that Harry's kids may _have joined the rest of the Weasley family in turning their backs on Potter_.

IMHO Molly Weasley, for one, would not exactly be shy about her opinions on the whole situation. And Percy Weasley telling the papers "I don't care what you say about my sister or Harry ... But you write one word about those kids..." well, I wouldn't be surprised if that was expressing more than a little anger at both Ginny and Harry. Percy's a man for whom appearances are important. He may still be on speaking terms with both of them (though we only see him with Ginny) but I doubt he'd approve of what they're doing. The reporter writes _Why such violent over-protectiveness? Perhaps he has become used to the idea that somebody must look after these children, since their own parents don't seem to care to do so?_ I could certainly see Percy, for one, being completely disgusted with them both, and worried about their children, whether the kids need him to be worried about them or not.

(b) I also got comments about how I should've had Harry give Draco _more_. Some kind of promise, some guarantee, something to go on, other than "I think there might be something here."

I just couldn't see that happening. Harry - as I see him, in this fic - is trying to be honest. With himself and with others. He can't promise Draco anything. He finds Draco attractive, is very strongly drawn to him, and is even willing to jeopardize his marriage to see where things can go with him. But he's not willing to make any promises, because that would be lying.

And besides, a Fool is supposed to make a choice, between drab safety and uncertain dreams.

(c) I also got many comments re. Harry being OOC.

Well... yeah. That's part of the point of the story. I dunno, maybe I should put in more of Draco's inner thoughts saying, "Whoa, this guy's acting totally OOC, what is _up_ with that?" IMHO I had already done that, and actually done it a little too much. But that's a judgment call, and I'm well aware that I may have called it wrong.

**8. And the moral of the story is**

No, this is not "What should Draco/Harry have done/do next?" 'Cause that's up to them ;)

This is "What would I do differently if I were to write & post this story now?"

* Maybe include a warning for not-necessarily-happy ending. Maybe.

* Define The Fool in the Author notes!

* Possibly warn for OOC. Probably not.

* Lighten up the second half. It was supposed to get less happy, but there still could've been more humour there, even if it was somewhat bitter.

* Not be scared of writing something people might not like :)


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